


Paint My Conscience Gold

by EvenbechNeiheim



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Bad Boy Trope, Even shows him the world, Fluff and Angst, Graffiti, M/M, Mutual Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Religious Conflict, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, a bit of angst, he really does, im sorry!!!!, spray-painting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:58:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvenbechNeiheim/pseuds/EvenbechNeiheim
Summary: There’s always Isak, the boy in white and silver. And it's easy, you see, it's easy because he already has a road for him laid out. He has gotten his life, even when he hasn't figured out how to live it. He’s never really broken a rule, never stepped out a foot away from his picket fence box despite the desire he has for it to splinter around him.And then there’s Even, the boy in black and gold. Who wrecks the picket fence box like a tornado, and promises to take Isak’s heart with it.





	1. Nessus

**Author's Note:**

> WOW! After months of writing this and contemplating whether to post the first chapter or not, I've, obviously, found the courage to post it! I want to keep this fairly short, I don't really have much to say-- but I still want to thank some peeps who held my hand through this (unfinished, to be continued) ride!
> 
> [Viki](http://tarjeiandhenrik.tumblr.com/), my girl, my champion, if it weren't for you and your daily 'i miss bad boy even' messages idk if i'd ever continued this after the first paragraph-- it took you, guilttripping, reverse psychology and a whole lot of sweettalking to get me to continue. thanks sweet, i love you <3.  
> also, my gooood clara! my first bestie in this fandom! youve bravely read the first drafts with grammar mistakes, the vagues things and sexual innuendos that were out of c o n t r o l. Lastly my cool squad lemon whores, [Britt](http://isakje.tumblr.com/), [Gaya](http://greathalesonfire.tumblr.com/) and [Vany](http://cheekyeven.tumblr.com/)\-- you are the coolest champs and i love you all so so much, thanks for encouraging me through the difficult parts <3 (even though britt almost broke the friendship after reading this, ill never forget).
> 
> (oh! and [Ikram](https://isaksy.tumblr.com/)! without you this document would still be called ' idk nice'!)
> 
> without further sappiness, it's time to jump in! enjoy the ride my peeps, it's gonna be a wild one!

**1 – Nessus**

 

**_T_** _here's a whole damn army thinkin' that they’re gonna harm me  
_ _Say goodnight, I'll never get_ **free** _._

Here’s what excites Isak about breaking the rules. The thrilling, living, beating of his heart when his tongue meets sensations that compare to something like a sin. When his eyes meet that one of many forbidden and his ribs break by the blood pumping so violently through his veins. He’d live for it, if he could. 

Instead he wears a tie around his neck like a rope and a shirt as white as bones. A belt tight around his hips to restrain that deep, deep desire in him. Hands too soft and not lived enough, there weren’t quite enough lines on them to indicate a life story for him. Only papercut scars on his fingers from turning pages so harshly.

So, this is the story about a boy who tasted the world in colour for the first time.

                      

**.Monday – 07:49.**

It’s the beginning of winter when Isak wakes up wrapped around his duvet and realises it’s the end of the weekend.

He’s a lazy morning type, he admits it himself—despite the protest his mother gives him for it. There’s just something in him that makes mornings go slower than they should, something that makes the biting cold when he pulls his covers away last like a lifetime.

With his toes hitting his way too cold wooden floor he hisses, his bedroom door going open and there’s too much _light_.

“Isak?” His mom goes, “it’s time for school.”

Routine is something he’d desperately break, yes.

The sleep in his eyes and the cross around his mother’s throat, the first glistening thing he always sees in the morning through hazy thoughts. He does his morning routine the same way over and over so much he remembers how to set the temperature of his shower by muscle memory, the place of his sugary cereal without a second glance.

So, he does exactly that, shuffles in and out of his bedroom to the kitchen and the bathroom and back.

That damned uniform already folded at the end of his bed, right in the middle when he comes back from his shower. He never remembers putting it on, he just ends up in front of the mirror with eyes red in frustration as his tie slips through his fingers like silk. He doesn’t glance at what he’s wearing, he knows it’s just white on black and black on white.

Morning routine, that’s how it is—he believes.

It ends when he slips the Converse on his feet, when he’s met with the cold air on his cheeks and the weight of his backpack on his shoulders. When he hears the door close behind him and he realises that he’s _alone_ now.

His celebrations are always weak though, his headphones maybe a volume pitch higher and not so innocent lyrics ruining his ears.

His tongue picked at the remaining sugar stuck in his teeth, his hands tugged at the sleeves of his jacket and he watched the breath cloud disintegrate into the air after leaving his lips. Nissen wasn’t that far from home, a walk of 10 minutes if he tried to make it on time. 

It’s a walk he can do in his literal sleep, mindlessly and pure based on his muscle memory. 

Knowing himself, it wouldn’t be right if he didn’t walk a little slower just so he could just see the frustration on his teacher’s face. It always made up for the red marks on his tests or the comments about the fact that his _hair_ was getting inappropriate for the tidiness of the school’s walls.

He kicks the pebbles in front of him, crosses the streets without looking twice to the left and shrugs his shoulders when he accidently bumps into a woman who seems to get her toddler to school in a hurry.

He just honestly, full heartedly, doesn’t _care_.

At least not enough to not slump his shoulders the sign of Hartvig Nissen stares him down at 8 o'clock in the morning, might he add.

So, whilst grumbling deep in his throat he pushes the glass doors open, he ignores the 3 glares from his teachers he’s offered already. He’s not even _that_ late, maybe seconds to a minute. There are still students walking up the stairs in the halls, teachers still outside their classrooms.

He stumbles in with dancing feet almost and ignores the cross staring down at him as if it knew what he did yesterday. Head bowed and his neck hurts.

His fingers intertwined with each other and he mumbles the morning prayers with the majority, his lips all wrong and his heart in a knot.

 

.

 

“Dude, no wonder every teacher is giving you a stare down,” Jonas starts when they are sat on the bench outside, “Your shoes look like you straight enrolled in here from Bakka.”

Isak stares down and looks at the mud kissing the once white patterns on his shoes. The laces, discoloured to yellow and the scribbled writing on the sides that might’ve been answers on a test he knew he was going to blow.

He shrugs, however, his spine against the wood of the bench and his feet clicking together. 

“They’re just shoes,” Isak mumbles from his lips, “Besides, it’s the only thing that the dress code doesn’t care about.”

“Before you know it, they will care about it because _you_ pushed it to the limit.”

Isak rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder into Jonas. He didn’t answer. His fingers plucked pieces from his sandwich, dropping them on the ground.

“Speaking of Bakka.”

“Hm?” Isak grumbles around a bite of his sandwich. It tastes too boring and he barely chews on it.

“A group broke in a couple of windows over here during the weekend,” Jonas scoffs and Isak looks over to the wooden planks placed in front of the classrooms windows. There was graffiti vibrant against it; crimson red, green, neon pink contrasting against the white walls of Nissen.

It curses the stained-glass windows --the contorted images they brought. The colours so bright and almost a tint of what he’d call _cheap_ when you compare it to the rich, old colours of what was under there. The glass shattered on the tiled grounds inside, a colour palette scattered.

“Again?”

“Yeah,” Jonas shrugged, he’s even smirking a little, “also, you know that girl—what’s her name again. Eva? From the first year, right?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Isak furrowed his brows, “what’s up with her?”

“Got caught with the fucking hand of a guy from _Bakka_ under her uniform skirt,” Isak almost chokes on his sandwich and Jonas laughed, “Mahdi told me.”

He feels a hand hitting his back and he barely manages to sputter out a, “at school?” before he’s diving for the water bottle next to him. Jonas nodded and Isak cleared his throat.

“Fy faen! Oh-fy faen,” he says, voice a little raw from the sponge assault. “Where?”

“The classroom next to the cafeteria. You know, the one with that huge cross.”                                          

And Isak _knows_ , alright.

That classroom with the crucifix strung highly above the board. The one with the red accent against the white marble sculpture, dripping down its face. Somehow it always manages to capture Isak’s gaze on itself. It’s brittle and brutal, gruesome for the weak hearted and maybe the only thing that Isak relates with on the too clean white school grounds.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters and feels Jonas’ shoulder bump against him, harsher than before. It makes him look up and he sees that the headmistress is already less than 15 metres away from them. And oh— _oh_. He whispers sorry under his breath for only Jonas’ ears to hear and bites back into his sandwich. 

Gaze back on his Converse and there’s guilt on his chest.

They’re still as dirty as before, and Isak still feels as locked up as it did 10 minutes ago.

 

**.Tuesday – 18.15.**

 

The season has already taken its toll on the daylight hours. It’s barely evening and the outside is frostbitten fingers and cold toes, the streets turning yellow by lights. Not like Isak notices anything, no not really. He’s all hidden away behind the door of his room behind the laptop on his desk. Tie forgotten and tossed somewhere to disappear on his hardwood floor.

He has his headphones on, alternating between the Snapchat ghost notifications and typing a word for his essay. The words don’t add up fast enough and he’s more interested in the 8 second videos and pictures Jonas sends him from the skate park. They’re loud and he hears cheering and the rolling of wheels against stone.

Isak replies with over exposed to light pictures of his pathetic essay and a frowning emoji against the black stripe. Then, he lays his phone back on his desk, writes until it buzzes the desk under his fingers again. 

It goes on for a little while, until he realises it just gnaws his chest in jealousy and he puts his phone on silent. His headphones a little louder, he’s back in that familiar zone, that zone with tunnelled vision and the tip of tongue peeking out from his lip just that little bit. 

He barely notices the knock on his door. His word count going up and up and he pauses. The room suddenly a whole lot quieter. He’s always _hated_ quiet. Can’t blame himself for the anxious pit in stomach whenever it’s a little too much of it. 

“Yes?” He says, whilst his back goes a little straighter against his chair when he sees his mother walk in. She smiled first, then, narrows her eyes onto the ground and sighs at the fabric of his tie half hanging from his bed. Her fingers wrap around it and grabs it from the floor with a huff. 

“And here am I, always doing your laundry.” She teases and folds it back on his bed. He looks up to her smile that’s a little bit to the side.

“Sorry, it must’ve slipped off I guess.” He starts, excuses _excuses_. She snorts and walks up next to him, squinting down at his laptop screen.

“Biology?”

“Mamma, it’s not because you see the word ‘plant’ that it’s about biology.”

“Fine, fine!” She smiled at him, the reflection of that silver around her neck against his white screen. “What is it then?”

“That book essay I told you about.” He looks up and she looks a little bit closer to his screen, hears her say something faintly next to him like ‘ah yes!’ and pull back again. His phone lights up on the black of his desk and she grabs it for him.

“Jonas,” She tells him and he feels the weight of it in his hand. His stomach dropping a little bit because fuck, if she snitches Jonas out. It’s a little bit hesitant when he taps the code in to unlock his phone, the yellow suddenly too bright. It takes a whole lot off his chest when he sees the similar red icon instead of a purple one.

 

_‘bringing out those sick moves, homeboi jesus be jealous.’_

 

Yeah, it could’ve been a lot worse if he thinks of it.

His mother just, sort of furrows her brows. Gives him a little glance and Isak is so grateful that it’s not that glance that makes his heart beat go mental, something about him being wrong and out of control.

“Is-,” She starts, and leans back a little more, “-is Jonas at the skate park, honey?”

“I think so?” Isak says and shrugs her cocked eyebrow away from him, “his parents are fine with it.” There’s his chest going all _please, please mine_ too but his ribs always being crushed again with that look of her eyes.

She kisses the top of his head a little too rough, clicking his neck down a notch just so that he’s reminded. He thinks of the coloured glass on the floor from this afternoon and looks away from her neck.

“Don’t get involved in all that, okay.”

He nods at that, feels like it’s more a demand than a question she asked him. Her hand straightens out the white dress shirt against his shoulders and she puts a little weight onto it.

“Well, I washed your shirt from last week, got that tea stain out.” Isak huffed a little, “I’ll put it ready for you tomorrow.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“I’ll leave you to it now, suppose we won’t see you until the morning.” She ruffles those blonde curls and he can hear her _think_ about that haircut. “Love you.”

“Love you too, say goodnight to pappa for me.”

She nods and disappears again. The sound of the door hitting the hinges like coming up from underwater. He sinks back in his chair, the collar of white too tight around his throat, and goes back to typing his essay.

 

.

 

_‘Hey asshole, I saw u opening the snap u diva’_ is the last thing he sees before he drifts off to sleep after his fingers feel sore of typing.

And his head, his head is somewhere else that doesn’t belong with the statuette on his nightstand.

 

 

**.Thursday – 13.16.**

Isak knows he’s not allowed to be here, like, at _all_. But it brings that tingle back in his stomach and he’s dancing on the tops of his toes.

It’s a little bit addicting yes, and it sparks up a little less more when he does it again and again. But it’s the one place quiet, away from the sting of judging glares and the weight looking down crosses.

It’s the small courtyard behind Nissen, that’s always locked up and you’re not allowed to put a foot on it. So, naturally, Isak always sits down on the green grass with his study notes and music in his ears. Propped up against the wall, his body throbbing that little bit. That’s the plan.

At least, that _was_ the plan.

He’s barely crossed the corner, his head too busy looking over his shoulders while his fingers clench bite half-moon marks on the cover of his books. About to put that foot down on the grass piece when he hears, voices? And realises that, _fuck_ , this might’ve been the last day he’s ever going to see daylight.

He pushes his back against the wall, heart stuck in his throat whilst his fingers grip around his books. Around the corner, maybe only a small couple metres away from him, something is going _down_.

“Do it, fucking, do it, Even!”

“Show them dude, I’m not gonna sit through fucking detention for a month because of these fucking Bible-bashers.”

It’s the little encouragements that confuse him first, way too many curse words for a teacher. The slang that hits him maybe a bit too hard in his chest. But when he hears that sound of a spray going off with the cheers like a song behind it, the puzzle clicks together.

He’s not supposed to be here. Not today, no.

But he just-- he _wants_. His whole-body stiff against the wall with his heart thumping while the chorus keeps going, hysterical laughs and bottles being shaken. The adrenaline rush through his blood bleeding onto his brain, his clothes, his ribs.

Then there’s a window being broken and Isak winces out of the shocked haze.

“Nice one Mikael!”

“Who gives a fuck anyway, not me.”

He thinks about the new colours that must’ve been laid on the white ground, the image that just broke a body part off and exploded on the floor. It must’ve been yellow this time, red and orange.  Little pieces everywhere.

He hears “ _c’mere_ ,” and a wet smack. It’s like his chest is vibrating, not from being afraid. He’s never heard anyone be so, carelessly free. Daring and dangerous-- that line between brave and stupid maybe too hazed and blurry.

Those were guys he’d heard, _only_ guys. Guys laughing, breaking and kissing and it’s hurting his heart with the bracelet around his wrist burning a cross onto the skin.

“The can is running out, you got another one?”

“Faen, Even you’re a fucking cockblock.”

“Go make out somewhere else, you got another or not?”

It’s when he hears _that;_ his fingers seemed to be getting burned against his book, just the confirmation of it. The paper slipping through his hands and just slightly grazing the skin of his fingertip to pull him back to reality by a sting.

Fuck.

He hopes, hopes so hard it’s not something important. Just a blank paper with a doodle or some prep for a test. It’s barely noticeable but he sees it’s a bundle of paper stuck together and he realises that yes that’s his essay that he really, _really_ needs for his class.

He could just wait for it but there’s dark clouds threatening above his head and he knows that any minute it’s about to rain and he can’t, waste a second. They haven’t noticed the sudden bundle of white on the ground, bickering voices back and forth. Isak is trembling cause maybe _now_ he’s admitting to be a little afraid. The cut on his finger a faint throb to distract him from the thumping in his ears.

Feeling a little brave and high on the adrenaline, he peeks over the corner of the wall. Three silhouettes, all male. If he weren’t sure about the fact if they were from Bakka or not, the leather clad shoulders and smoke around them sure leave no room in his head for second identification.  There’s the one spraying on the wall, his profile only visible if he squints.

Then, there’s the two with their backs to him. Leather squeaking in protest because the one had an arm laid over the other’s shoulder. They’re leaning into each other and the cigarette burning between their fingers.

They shift a little to the left and the other guy is completely blocked from Isak’s sight. His fingers squeeze the book a little tighter and it’s the first time his head goes into overdrive with ‘don’t get caught’ on repeat like it’s his favourite song.

Fuck it. Just _, fuck it._

He doesn’t think they noticed him, he’s walking a little quieter but not slower than usual. His feet stumble over one another and his heart is floating somewhere into the dark clouds. It’s empowering him a little, but it’s a goddamn essay for Christ sake. He’s all acting as if he’ll end up between the shards bleeding on the ground if they catch him.

“Yea, I think that was it.” The guy spraying paint goes; he hears the ball clicking in the tin bottle and a content laugh.

“We gotta blast man, before we get caught. Looks fucking great though.”

“Pissing off Parish boys and girls is hard work. But you’re right, we should like, get the fuck out of here.”

“Fine, fine give me the can. No, Even--the can! Jesus Christ, you’re an idiot.”

It doesn’t register through Isak’s head until the can rolls to a stop against his feet. He’s just gotten a hold of his papers too. It’s as if it’s a bomb on the ground and he barely takes a glance at it before he turns around, almost stumbling over, and wants to walk back around the corner like nothing ever happened.

But maybe, he’s going a bit faster than just his normal walk this time.

There’s curses chasing him and he hears footsteps behind him. All in a march and going so much faster than his, ‘hey you!’ is thrown towards his head. He’s close to the school ground until he feels his upper arm being yanked back by someone’s hand. It’s a tug and pull battle with his white dress shirt and the guy dragging him towards the wall.

Isak looks up to the one pinning him against the wall all with big caught in headlights doe eyes and his mouth a little agape. The guy is taller than him, which makes sense considering how fast he got a hold of Isak.

He’s giving the intense eyes and all, pupils blown and his teeth clicking his jaw tight. He smells like smoke and his fingers are blotched and butchered by party colours.

“Let me go,” Isak hisses through his teeth after regaining his senses. “Let me- _go._ ”

He pushes against the guy’s chest and notices the two other boys nodding to the small courtyard they just came from. And-- no, no, no he’s _not_ getting beat up. The guy didn’t even wince when Isak pushed him, his nails digging into Isak’s shoulders as he pulls him back to the green grass.

“ _No_ ,” he pushes, twists around in the guy’s arm and his heart is beating so hard in his throat it might block off the air for his lungs. His books tightly against his chest.

“Don’t- shh.” He hears him say, the buttons and zipper of his jacket all digging onto Isak’s spine. He squirms around more, a mess of legs and arms and too strong hands. His feet targeting shins and the other’s shoes.

He’s released from his grip back at the small courtyard, those vibrant colours new and it smells like fresh paint. When the guy opens his arms, Isak is still leaning his whole weight against his hands. He goes falling first, tripping over his feet and skipping a little bit over the green field to regain his balance.

“Sorry.” The guy says and Isak turns around a little too fast. His heart beating but his face so stern, his hands shaking but that glare to the guy is goddamn _real_. He huffs. Maybe with the paint fumes rising to his head.

“Nissen boy is pissed _off,_ who would’ve thought.” One goes.

“Fucking--, we don’t have time for this shit.” The other growls.

Then one of the other two walked passed the tall one, his face that little bit more threatening even though he was so much shorter than Isak. Hair black and his fingers gripping Isak’s shirt, pulling him forward towards himself. Isak’s neck is straining and he could release his books if he wanted to, they’re so pressed between their chests.

“Not a fucking word about this.” He starts, venom dripping from his tongue. “To anyone.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Isak mumbles back, voice found and green eyes squinting that little bit when the guy laughs the remaining smoke onto him. “It’s the restricted _section_ from Nissen.”

“Couldn’t give more of a shit.” The guy replies and Isak pushes him away --surprised how easy he lets Isak slip through his fingers. “‘Cause you’re gonna shut your mouth.” He continues.

“Wait a minute.”

The tall guy goes and struts forward, split lips teasing grin and all. His eyebrows are cocked up and Isak glares even _more,_ his stomach hurting that little bit from the grip he had on him. 

“ _You’re_ not even supposed to be here, if it’s the restricted section.”

Isak’s knuckles go white and his cheeks flare red. The smirk twists around the corner of this, this guy with this _nerve,_ mouths and there’s faint ‘ooh’s’ behind him.

His teeth bite on his tongue and he wants to speak something dangerous, all with fangs and crimson blood. Instead the silver sparkle in the guy’s blue eyes tear at his too pure, golden heart strings that get caught in his throat.

“Guess you won’t snitch anything now, huh?” The one behind him goes, Isak just looks at all the faces. He huffs and nods once, maybe not noticeable but he couldn’t care less.

“They’ll know it’s Bakka anyway,” he says and with that, walks past them. Back to the school grounds and away from leather jackets and paint splattered fingers. From smoke kissed lips and blown pupils with split lips grins.

 

 

**.Friday – 15.10.**

 

 

There’s 20 minutes left of his Norwegian lesson --and by extension, this school week. All day long the whispers have chased him of _another_ beaten in window and graffiti message. It’s maybe the first time Isak notices how many stories deform when they are told from ear to ear.

At one point 3 students became 5 and first year Eva with her black uniform skirt bunched up around her thighs. The colours were suddenly different and the timestamps were too late. Now there’s drugs and swings of alcohol involved and more livid parents on the phone.

_No_ , he wanted to say when Jonas told his version with moving hands. No, that’s not how it went.

It’s the rumours hitting Nissen straight in the heart, even his mother texted him to be safe. He had rolled his eyes and scoffed at his phone, as if they hurt anyone other than the picture perfect and canvas ready walls.

“So,” Jonas whispers, Isak’s pretty sure they’re supposed to be working at a task but the clock ticking further seemed that tad bit more interesting.

“Hm?”

“I’m going to skate right after this and meet Mahdi and Magnus there, want to join?” Isak really wants to rip that careful glance on Jonas’ face away and stump it into the ground.

Instead he shrugs. He wants to yes, he really does. But the thought of someone’s mother telling the other and setting the ball rolling to his own parents sickens his stomach.

He didn’t expect his own answer though.

“I’ll make up a lie,” he goes, “Tell them you’re struggling with biology or something.”

“And that my parents are cool with us studying at the park next to school, ‘cause you know yours will just call mine.” Jonas replies and Isak nods. His hand under his desk, phone heavy in it. His nails tapping on the back cover as he glances at the teacher.

 

 

> **_To Mamma - 15.12_**  
>  Jonas is asking if I could help him with biology. His mom said it’s okay that we study at the park, we’ll eat dinner at his house.  
>  Is that chill?
> 
> **From Mamma - 15.16  
>  ** Sure, home before 21:00 though.
> 
>  
> 
> _**T** **o Mamma - 16.17**  
>  _ Okay, thanks <3.
> 
>  

“We’re fine.” Isak says and when he looks up he sees Jonas with that, sort of in shock- expression written on his face. “What?” He hushes.

“That was,” Jonas looks down and blinks at his desk, “Fast?”

“Shut it, it’s just the skate park.”

 

.

 

Just the skate park is what he said. Their tummies in knots by all the laughing they did.

Throughout the streets from Nissen to the skate park, Jonas decided both should be able to fit on his small board. It was a mess, an arm there, a leg on the ground as they tried to regain their balance over the smallest bumps and pebbles.

The tie around Jonas’ neck was discarded by Isak, after the incident of him almost stumbling off and grabbing him by the piece of fabric. It earned them the sound of Jonas’ throat and lungs protesting, Isak’s converse slipping over the ground and the full, colourful laughs that made your head dizzy.

They were light headed, a little energetic in their hearts when they reached the slopes and graffiti walls. Isak ignored the whining from Jonas about the wheels of his board, something about the weight it had to endure being certainly too heavy. He didn’t care all that much, just stood there.

He smelled the wheels burning black on concrete and vibrant drying paint on paint on the walls. Yeah, he couldn’t care less.

“This is nice.” Isak murmurs, maybe for only himself and his thoughts to hear. Jonas laughed that little softer and bumped his shoulder.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

The winter cold bit at his nose and back, but his uniform blazer hung low between his fingers. He nods, tugged the silver bracelet around his wrist up his buttoned sleeve. Tight around his forearm but he smiled, smiled so hard that the guilty thoughts plummeted on the grounds around his feet.

Jonas took the ramps in his uniform and all, white becoming transparent sticky and Isak prompted himself to look at the coloured walls.

“You’re going to catch pneumonia if you don’t wear a jacket, dude.” He tried and his heels grounded hard into the ground.

“I’ll put it on when Mahdi and Mags get here, _dude_.”

Jonas his voice was teasing and Isak laughed that little bit. He stretches for Jonas’ jacket next to him on the bench and tosses it at him, right down the bottom of the ramp. It knocked him off balance, black fabric with rolling wheels.

“Fy faen, oh my God.” Isak wheezes. Jonas’ hair was a true mess of black locks and he had this look on his face that brought Isak to tears.

“You _asshole_!”

Jonas flipped Isak off and ran back up the ramp. His blazer over his dress shirt that just had a little too much buttons unbuttoned around his throat. Isak’s fingers bit onto the wood of the bench, he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t but he had to.

“So uh,” He cleared his throat, “When are Mahdi and Mags getting here?”

“Bakka students get out at like, 16:00 or something. Shouldn’t be long until now.”

“Is been a while since I saw them,” Isak goes, “You think they’ll still be cool with me?” He’s hesitant, toe tipping in the water kind. He fumbles a bit with his sleeve and pulls it back over his bracelet.

“Yeah,” Jonas nods and bumps Isak out of the nervous habit, “Just a bit worried with how strict everyone is around you.”

“Okay.” Isak just says and tries to ignore the nagging at his chest.

 

.

 

“Oi, Nissen boys!” Isak hears behind them and turns around, he barely notices blonde before he’s not at all ready for the arms suddenly around him but he just goes with it. Magnus is hitting his back and laughing and Isak can’t move nor breathe.

“Jesus- Magnus,” He coughs.

“I thought you fucking _died_ , Isak.” Magnus almost yells in front of him. His hair has grown and there’s something about him that just screams how-- how _free_ he is. And pang, a hit of green jealousy through Isak’s chest. “Fucking died!”

Isak rolls his eyes and barely lets the gaze go when he half-heartedly hugs Mahdi. And it’s nice being back with the guys.

“You guys could’ve just checked up on him yourself? Considering how Bakka is destroying our school during school hours at the moment.”

“Oh shit dude, yeah I heard something about that.” Mahdi replies, not bowing at all under that look Jonas is giving him. “Some of those third years might be coming over too, dunno.”

Yeah and that’s when Isak’s heart skips a beat. He’s thinking back of leather jackets and smoke breathes and guys with intense glares. Paint coated fingertips that left imprints on Isak’s pure white shirt and marbled heart. The faint purple blue bloomed bruise on his side. Split lips grins.

And it might just be the fact that it doesn’t scare him, that scares him so much.

His head knocks itself into a haze, the colours from the graffiti walls like broken stained glass. He laughs with Magnus and replies to Mahdi but it’s the thought of that dream he has during the night with intense blown eyes and the smell of leather wax that got him dripping his words from his lips without a thought.

“Isak?” He hears Magnus.

“Hm?”

“ _Dude_ , were you even listening what I just said? What the fuck man!”

“Something about you hooking up a lot more now? Since-- since you’re a Bakka student?” Isak tries. Magnus huffs and crosses his arms.

“Yes, yea!” Magnus sputters, “But she was like-- _really_ hot, I promise.

He was ready to go tease Magnus, expect a shove on his chest and they’d continue the conversation all light hearted with smiles from one towards another. Except a smell laced his throat together, there were laughs chasing it.

“Shit.” Jonas said.

It was smoke he smelled, but not the cigarettes kind. His toes curled and stomach twisted up and up until it reached his throat. And when he turned around-

That _guy_ was right there.

Almost impossible to miss, tall figure almost falling out of the group.

His hair all pulled back, leather on his shoulders and Isak wanted to laugh- he looked so much like a fucking Grease cliché. Like he had hidden tattoos inked and smiled so bitterly pretty towards you on your bedsheets. Except for the smoke leaving between his lips maybe, curling around to kiss his cheeks and up towards the sky.

Isak cocked his head back down, his neck clicking with protest towards his spine. The tie around his collar was so, so tight. Laced around and looped back all intricate but it felt like a silk noose. He wanted to breathe- he _needed_ to breathe.

And honestly to God, all he wanted was the guy to shut his mouth and stain Isak’s dress shirt again with pretty colours.

Lies, he told himself. Lies _lies **lies**._

“Mahdi man!” One yells and he heard a high-five through the park. And then another, and another and so it went on until Isak closed his eyes when he heard that guy talk. He wasn’t listening, just some white noise that got heavier by smoke.

“Want a hit?”

“Nah, maybe later.” There was some laughter behind him.

“Jesus, if you’re turning down free fucking weed something might be wrong.”

The voice trailed off, he felt eyes burning through his back and he didn’t know why he was so-- so _ashamed_. Shying away like a small dog with its tail between their legs. It wasn’t like him at all; He wanted all but to be heard most of all, wanted to take a dare but the stories were so intimidating from Bakka.

“Yeah, this is Jonas and uh-, Isak.”

Jonas kicked his foot and Isak’s head popped up. He was right, there were a lot of staring eyes but the one burning marks into his back were probably from the guy himself.

“Nissen boys?” One chuckles. Isak pulled his cuff down further over silver.

“Yes.” Jonas replies with an eyebrow cocked, the whole teasing thing always got in his nerves and Isak _knows_ that. It just gets worse and worse whenever Isak becomes involved.

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, unnoticeable for the rest but he was sure Jonas heard it.

“Okay,” There was a serious awkward silence and stare down going on right now, “Didn’t know you chilled with Bible Bashers but-,”

Jonas was up on his feet in less time than Isak could blink, and Jesus Christ he was going to kill Jonas’ impulsivity one day but all he wanted him to now was _sit_ back down. There were huffs going on and Jonas was threatening closer and closer to the in milliseconds, enveloping into the smoke cloud.

“Jonas.” Mahdi said.

“I bet I can beat you in that slope, right now.”

The guy blinked and laughed and looked around his group. Something around 8 people. He passed the joint to the one next to him. Eyeing Jonas up and down.

“Alright.”

After that it was like all hell broke loose, roars and screaming while people hit the guy's shoulder. Isak looked at Jonas, Jonas grinned back through the ‘ooh’s!’ from Bakka behind him. He was going to have a goddamn _skate off_ with one of these guys.

“You better win.” Isak prompts when Jonas grabbed his board from next to Isak, “I’m not carrying you home if you lose.”

So, that’s how suddenly everyone was sat or stood around the ramp. Yelling and thrilling between passing drugs and teasing grins. Isak was fairly interested, he hadn’t moved from his bench because he honestly just- refused to with squinting eyes and all, and looked at Mahdi and Magnus pushing Jonas around.

He was about to get his phone out of his pocket and Snapchat the whole ordeal for Jonas to screenshot later but when the roaring got louder and their feet thumped the ground harder someone suddenly slipped next to Isak on the bench.

It wasn’t Mahdi or Magnus.

“You really seem to have a thing for forbidden territories, don’t you?”

And Isak’s heart flared up, up and up like the smoke that vanished around it. He blinked but those blue eyes were looking at him again and he was grinning stars in his eyes with straight white teeth. It hurts at his stomach and he blamed it on the bruise that started hurting by the memories of the maker.

“I don’t see your name written here anywhere.” Isak mutters and the guy laughs so full hearted and sincere in a response that Isak pushed the bones in his skin together.

“You don’t even know my name.” He starts and his lips were going to split again if he didn’t stop grinning.

“Do I need to know it?”

“Yeah,” He pushes, the skin around his eyes was wrinkling. “Even.”

Isak heard it before, yes. All hurried and pushing, tangled around glass and leather. He didn’t remember it though, only ice blue and jaw locking images.

“Isak.” He grumbles. Even nodded and laid back on the bench, the skating rank completely forgotten when he actually laid an arm over the back of the bench to turn his whole body to Isak. He suddenly seemed so, so much closer and Isak’s leg started ticking at its own record. “You- probably knew that?”

“What?”

Isak wanted to actually _die_ , Even was smirking again and his eyes are sparkling glitter that got straight in Isak’s head.

“Like-,” His eyes trailing lower down Isak’s face. “Like they introduced us earlier, and yeah?”

Fucking hell, he was licking his own lips and then he looked back up to Isak and Isak’s throat burned. His tongue the heaviest weight he had to carry yet while his fingers wove through the fabric around his wrist.

“I knew.” Even laughs, “Just teasing.”

He stopped laughing and just, stared at Isak. And though Isak could feel the scarlet crawling up his neck and cheeks like spiders and he stopped being able to breathe when that whole intense stare was back on him.

But Even was an asshole who was probably too high in his head to think straight.

“Your friend is actually beating ass right now.”

Isak chuckled that little bit and shrugged. You know, two could play this whole game that totally wasn’t a game that made Isak’s chest scream vivid yellow but _hey_ , he was competitive. So, he leaned back and felt his back hitting Even’s arm and the whole daring part of it was going straight from his head to his toes and back.

“Thank god he is,” Even raises his brows at Isak and Isak shrugged, “I swear to god, last time he fucked up with someone I had to arrange another fight so he could avenge himself.”

“Shut up, oh my God.”

“No! It’s true!” He sputters and there was that laugh again. He liked making Even laugh, it pulled at his stomach in a way he’d never expected it to feel so lovingly golden. “It was a _mess_.”

“You had to arrange the fight?” Even asks and Isak nodded, “You?”

“Yeah? That’s what I’m saying?”

“But, you’re harmless?”

Okay, Isak should’ve known the tone of tease by now. Considering Even was not only teasing, but laughing and giving Isak that look again that made his toes curl.

“Me? _Harmless_?” He scoffs and pushes Even, “I’ll have you fucking know I am _not_ harmless! I’m probably the most harmful person you’ll ever meet. Fy faen, harmless?”

Maybe the tickles in his belly were.

“But, Isak,” Even started. He leaned in so much closer and Isak’s breath hitched and his throat tied itself in a knot. Honestly, he didn’t know if having to keep looking into Even’s eyes, or look down at his grinning lips was worse. “I’m pretty sure sneaking behind Nissen to study is _pretty_ harmless.”

“Who says I was sneaking in there and not just grabbing my essay from the ground, hm?”

“I didn’t know paper floats so far through just still sky, no wind at all.” Even was getting closer and closer and his voice was dropping and Isak couldn’t take anymore.

“Biology and physics were always my subjects.”

“Oi, stop harassing the church boy, Even!”

Even pulled back and Isak felt air hit his lungs in full force. He coughed and coughed and his ears probably match the colour of his neck. Maybe they should’ve taken note of the number of people actually here before just making a home in each other’s personal bubble.

It just hit Isak harder in the face than the air suddenly truing in, church boy. That _was_ him. He was sitting here in a tie and a dress shirt and wore a silver bracelet hidden under his cuff. A church boy with thin papered books in his nightstand and prayers before dinner. It hit him like the fists Even’s eyes were, all ice and fire.

But it’s when Even throws up his middle finger, he doesn’t choke on air anymore. He wants to do exact that, and he wants to ask Even teach me. Teach me, teach me with your smoke smell and coloured fingers. It’s that sense of comfort almost, to see him do it for Isak.

Like Jonas always does.

Only, Jonas doesn’t look at his lips when he licks them.

“Fucking-, don’t worry about them.” Even mumbles, he smiled and laughed but most of all he was so, so sincere. Waiting for Isak to nod back until he could lean back against the bench, so he could drop his shoulders again and reach for the cigarette packet tucked in his jeans.

“They’re harmless.” He winks at Isak. Shaking the packet until he got a hold of one. Isak waited, because goddamn that was an excuse to look innocently at Even’s lips, until Even completely missed his mouth and placed it behind his ear. Like one of those artists you see in movies, with their pencils or still wet dripping paint brushes leaving smudges on their skin.

“You’re not going to smoke?” Isak asks. When Even shook his head he totally huffed. “Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you got inspiration from The Fault in Our Stars too?”

“The Fault in our-, _what_?”

“You know, the whole metaphor thing?”

“Yeah,” Even says, “I know. But I’m not going to smoke next to you if you don’t want me to.”

Isak’s heart was going to _shatter._ This guy, who had shoved him against the wall and dragged him along with him wasn’t going to smoke next to him if he wasn’t cool with it. It was going to shatter and a whole new colour spectrum would be created for just Even to paint with.

“Oh.” He couldn’t do better than just say that. His voice caught in his throat. “I don’t. I don’t really mind, actually.” Isak spoke, so soft.

“You sure?” Even’s brows raised and he nods once at Isak, “You _really_ sure?”

He’s teasing. Isak noted. Grinning again with his canines denting his lip. Isak huffed out ‘yes!’ and rolled his eyes, ripping his eyes away from Even’s mouth.

“You don’t really look all too comfortable here,” Even shrugs, one side of his lips stuck together with the cigarette in between. His hands digging in the pockets of his jacket to find his lighter, Isak assumed. “Wouldn’t want to get mamma or pappa angry because you smell like something else than holy water.”

“First of all, holy water is just normal water but blessed.” Isak sputters, “It doesn’t smell like anything and I think you’re mistaking it for the communion _wine_!”

The way Even’s neck stretched when he laughed made Isak’s throat dry, tongue heavy and his toes curl inside his Converse. Strands of his hair escaping the wax slicking it back and he wanted to braid his hands through it. Orange and white between his lips and Isak wanted to take and fucking taste.

“Of course you haven’t touched any of that, no?” Even says, blowing out smoke to the left. Away from Isak’s face next to him, letting it crawl so far away from him. “And second?”

“What?”

“You said, ‘first of all’. Usually something follows up after that.” Isak wanted to punch the amusement off his goddamned face. Or kiss it hard, maybe-- if that was what he’s feeling in his gut.

“Uh,” Isak frowns and he looked around the skate park. “I’m waiting for Jonas anyway so the smell will be gone when he’s done.” He noticed how Even followed his gaze to Jonas on the ramps and him frowning a little. He took another drag.

“That’s gonna be a little while.” He prompts, “Knowing Jonas he’ll probably want to beat us _all_ before going home satisfied.”

Isak shrugged and leaned back on the bench. Arms crossing and bracelet heavy silver against his wrist and chest. He felt Even’s arm against his shoulders and the realisation hit him deep in the gut that he hadn’t pulled away at all. Teasing aside.

“How do you know Jonas?”

“Through Mahdi? And then Magnus.” Even shrugs. “Seriously though, it’s probably going to take ages until he gives up.”

“I know,” Isak mumbles, a bit too fast.

It’s quiet for a while. Just Even breathing out smoke and the sound of wheels against ground slamming and rolling. But it’s nice, comfortable even. Warm and light. He cherishes it, wants to keep it like this until someone strikes a conversation with them but then Even just drops a bomb on his lap without a single warning.

“I can drive you home if you want?”

He just mentions it so, casually with a shrug. As if it’s normal for Isak’s chest to start shuddering and his cheeks turning aflame against the cold air and hello he can’t. No, he can’t because this is a Bakka boy- an obvious one at that. A Bakka boy with teasing smiles and a driver’s licence next to his cigarette packet tucked in his jeans.

But he doesn’t refuse Even-- just yet.

“I don’t know,” He starts, “Do you even _have_ a car?”

“Yes!” Even laughs.

“Where?”

“I brought the guys here!” He claims and nods towards them, smiling down at Isak too damn _smug_ for his liking.

“You smoked weed, Even.”

“It was like one hit, an _hour_ ago.” He protested back.

Isak’s belly screams and tugs and Isak is just fuck it, fuck it and fuck it. He sees Jonas racing back and forth and Even’s awaiting stare. He wants to go home and he’s offered a ride for Christ sake.

“Okay.” He says, mumbling almost.

“Okay, what?”

“Drive me home?” It’s barely louder than a whisper but Even nods. Flicks the remaining bud between his fingers on the ground and rubs his hand palms against his jean clad thighs. Leather squeaking and his brows raising at Isak. Who’s not moving.

“Yeah?” Even tries and smiles when Isak shakes out his trance. Blinking and diving down for his backpack.

“I’ll go tell Mags I’m leaving early, alright?”

 

.

 

Even’s car is maybe exactly how Isak imagined it to be. Messy with empty water bottles and wrappers thrown to scatter on the backseat. There’s an air freshener tied around the front mirror and Isak can barely read ‘ _green kardemomme_ ’ on it before the lights go off again as Even climbs in the driver seat.

“Ah shit, it’s cold in here.” He mentions after he slams his door shut. His keys dangling around his finger and he looks sheepishly at Isak. “Sorry about the mess _and_ the cold.”

“Who wears a leather jacket in November and expects not to be cold?” Isak laughs and leans back, the cushions a lot friendlier for his spine than the hard bench outside. “But put the heater on anyway.” He mumbles.

Even laughs and starts the car, shaking his head and reaching for the heater.

“How high?”

“Like, normal?” Even in the dark Isak can catch the glint in Even’s eyes. “Why wouldn’t it just be normal temperature?”

“Maybe you like it hotter than usual,” He hears the grin in Even’s voice and Isak’s neck is creeping up to his cheeks with hot, crimson red, “You’re a special one.”

“Shut the fuck _up_.” Isak sputters with his heart in his throat. “Start the damn car and take me home.”

It’s a competition whether Even’s laugh, or the engine rumbling under their feet is the loudest. But Isak doesn’t really care, the radio humming between them and Even’s fingers tapping the steering wheel.

At moments Isak is so glad that evening has fallen because his face turn as red as the headlights where Even stops for. Always looking at Isak until the colour turns green. Isak catches his gaze in the corner of his eye, it’s a little intrigued, a stupid smile on his face and his eyes too dark.

“Turn left here.” Isak mumbles quieter each time and Even obeys.

“The house at the end of the street. But could you stop a little bit further?” He’s picking at his nails when he asks, avoiding Even’s stare that he feels burning holes against his temple. Isak’s pretty sure Even knows this is a ‘please make sure my parents don’t see you,’ instead of a ‘please make sure my parents don’t see us making out’ request. 

Isak sighs in relief when he sees the blinds down, knowing they probably won’t know if he arrived by a different car at all. But Even listens, passes his house until the trees mask it.

The lights go on when Even stops and then go out again. It’s enough for Even to swat his hand against Isak’s fingers abusing his own and there’s a spark on Isak’s skin when they touch that goes straight to his gut but he wants to _deny_.

He’s looking up at Even, breath stuck in his throat because those intense eyes are back again. Framed by blue ever so slightly. Isak’s chest blooms, he wants to breathe them in, look at them without blinking so his heart gets used to them without leaving him in overdrive.

Even is looking down Isak’s face quickly, barely noticeable but the breaking of their stare snaps Isak out of his gaze. Feels the flowers around his ribs die down and black disappointment bleeding through them, he wants to sob. Cry and make grabby hands at Even’s chest to claw all the way to his heart. 

He looks away but Even still lingers.

“Thanks, for driving me.”

He’s whispering.

“It’s okay, can I give you my number?” Even whispers as soft as him, his eyes are still locked onto Isak’s profile. Isak nods, reaching down his pocket for his phone and the movements make Even back away slightly.

Even pressing the home button illuminates his face with cold white light, shadows dancing on his face in weird angles but the abstract disfiguring pulls Isak’s gut in like rope tug of war. He’s allowed to stare too, you know.

“Can you unlock-?” Even gestures. Isak grabs his phone back and unlocks, swiping away notifications that popped up and giving it back until- _Silver_. Silver catches the light and it’s like Isak’s wrist is blinding.

Even looks at it until Isak rolls it back up under his cuff.

It takes no-less than a couple seconds and his phone is back in his hand. The silence heavy between them and Isak wishes there was more than just radio silence. Even doesn’t stop looking at him and it squirms his spine together.

“I’ll uh, I’ll text you.” Isak mumbles.

“I’d like that.” Even’s voice is so much more heavier, more intimately raw. The car their little bubble.

“Okay,” Isak nods, looking over at him. “Bye Even.”

“Bye Isak.”

Oh, it _hurts_. It hurts when he slams the car door open and closed because he can hear their bubble pop. It hurts because he smells things a thousand times at once, but he just wants to bury his nose closer to Even. It hurts his heart, shakes his chest and breaks his ribs.

When he closes his front door, he sees Even’s car drive by and wants to chase after it.

“Isak, that you honey?” He hears his mom from the kitchen, his head feels like it’s underwater. He replies, he walks inside, kisses him mom, hugs his dad and so it goes on. Drowning and static. Silent when he grabs his phone with shaking fingers under the table during dinner.

 

 

> **To Even <3 – 19.23**
> 
> Hey, it’s Isak. I had a good time, thank you again for driving me home.

 

He pretends like the heart Even added in his phone next to his name doesn’t make his own skip a beat-- or five.

But it’s when Isak walks the stairs to his room and shuts the door behind him the gates break open. What is he _doing_? He barely _knows_ this guy, what the fuck? What is he _feeling_? Why? Fuck **why**?

He’s melting against the edge of his mattress and buried his face against his hands. He needs to breathe but it’s like only around Even he’s allowed to. This is unfair. This is cruel and whatever God is playing him needs to stop playing with strings around his heart.

He’s slamming his fist against his nightstand and the statue of Virgin Mary crashes over to the ground, mercilessly taking his lamp down in the fall. It bangs and bounces until it goes quiet and he hears his father calling for him down the stairs.

“Everything okay, Isak? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No!” He snaps, “I’m fine!” His voice was shaking.

The tie around his neck is too tight and the buttons too restricting, he gets rid of it all one by one with his fingers stuck around fabric and his eyes a little wet with panic. _What is he doing?_

He kneels down next to his bed, hands folding together and the bracelet burning red crosses around his arm. Branding him while his elbows dig broken springs in his mattress. He’s muttering, speaking in rambles with his eyes half lidded until his phone screen lights up.

 

 

> **_From Even <3 – 20.14_ **
> 
> Was nothing, Isak. Had a great time too <3

 

And then his chest is breaking against the waves. He’s crawling between his God and Even’s eyes and wants to ask them both for forgiveness. It’s breaking and sputtering his last lines with shocking heaves. Forgive me, forgive me.

“Amen.”

His voice cracked.

 

**_O_** _h, I got troubles, they won't let me be  
__But I won't get tired, set the town on_ **fire** _till my troubles, got trouble with me._


	2. Sphinx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leather, smoke, phone calls and art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gooood i am absolutely baffled by the amount of support and reaction the first chapter recieved--- like honestly, i think ive been living on that high ever since it came out! thank you so so so SO much, i cant express it enough. hope this chapter wont disappoint! 
> 
> As always, special thanks to the people helping me out and supporting me through this-- you know who you are <3.
> 
> enjoy, my peeps!!

**2 - SPHINX**

 

 **_T_** _he sparks send the fire down the wire,  
_ _A countdown begins, until the_ **dynamite** _gives in._

**.Sunday – 17.14.**

Isak spends the rest of his weekend feeling weirdly flustered and empty from his Friday night breakdown. His phone stuck to his palm whilst his mother fussed about him never paying attention. He, as per usual, grumbled and tucked his phone back in his pocket and felt her fingers through his curls.

“I don’t—I don’t _mind_ you spending time with Jonas,” She told him Saturday night with his head on her lap while they were watching television, “Just be careful, okay?”

“I’ve known Jonas since I was a child, mamma.”

Her hand stopped through his hair and he physically _felt_ her looking over at his dad. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he just wanted to lock himself up in his room again.

“I know,” She whispered and her fingers started again against his scalp. A bit rougher, almost intended to hurting him with her nails. “People change, sometimes though. Just make sure he’s not bad for _you_ , Isak.”

He ignored her, and continued with an unfocused look to the television. Counting the seconds up and up until he could make up an excuse valid enough to go to bed and text Even until midnight.

So, when Sunday was nearing evening, he deliberately avoided the living room after doing the dishes with his dad in his buttoned-up Sunday best and muttered something about having to revise the test for tomorrow. Barely out the kitchen door and already fishing his phone out of his pocket.

 

> **_From Even <3 -17.15_ **
> 
> Fuuuuck I have a hangover :(
> 
> Also just woke up hello!!! How are you? <3
> 
>  

> **To Even <3 - 17.15**
> 
> Figured you’d have one
> 
> it’s 17:15 jesus christ even
> 
> also im fine, just escaped another awkward tv night  
> 
>     
> 
> **_From Even <3 - 17.16                                  _ **
> 
> Hey at least I woke up, right??
> 
> So you’re just chilling rn?
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even <3 - 17.16**
> 
> Yeah :)     
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even <3 - 17.17_ **
> 
> Chill!
> 
> Okay, my head is killing me Isak :((
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even <3 - 17.17**
> 
> Idiottttt
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even <3 - 17.18_ **
> 
> Listen, totally worth it though
> 
> Don’t call me an idiot!!! Wait until I catch you having
> 
> a hangover...
> 
> **To Even <3 - 17.18**
> 
> ???? You wish
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even <3 - 17.18_ **
> 
> Pfff :’(

 

Isak grinned and typed away until his clock hit 00:00 and the butterflies in his stomach stopped keeping him awake. His homework only a collection of messy scrawling, unreadable to some degree—but it wasn’t like he minded.

And that, oh _that_? Seemed a first.

 

 **.Tuesday** – **14.30.**

“I mean, I _totally_ beat him, right?”

“Yeah, Jonas.” Isak grumbles with his head laying on the cold school desk. His cheek squished against it, counting the scribbles on it while he listened to Jonas going on and on about last week. “You _totally_ beat him.”

“You totally would’ve loved it, if you hadn’t gone away with that guy.” Jonas trails off. Isak rolls his eyes and sat back up in his chair. His phone burning a hole in his dress pants pocket and into his leg. Jonas raised his brows.

“He offered me a ride _home,_ ” he starts, red creeping up on his face. “Because we both knew you weren’t going to give up. Like, anytime soon. No—Jonas, don’t give me that look!”

Jonas shrugs. His eyes widening a little at Isak’s, totally unnecessary, outburst. And Isak slumped back in his chair, hoping his blood would stop thumping so hard in his ears. He looked up at the white cross above the blackboard and gazed back down. Then continues to settle a few inches deeper into his sulk.

He knows he’s being a little too petty, a little too whiny maybe. But there’s something about Jonas associating Even with the typical ‘ _Bakka_ _rebel’_ sticker that ticks him off. So, he ignores it, stares at the wooden plank over the broken window instead.

“Just be ca-,”

Jonas got cut off by the door swinging open, their math teacher walking in with the bun in her hair lowered to her neck. Random locks of grey hair popping out the elastic and her glasses slipping down her nose that she desperately pushed back up. Her heels clicking against the tiles and echoing through the room.

“Sorry I’m late! Page 132, everyone.”

She straightened out her dress and folded her collar right around her golden necklace around her neck.

Isak groans and sits up straight on his wooden chair whilst skipping through pages with squares and circles—all the while he listens, bites his tongue, to whatever monotone voice around him bouncing on the tiles.

 

.

 

He’s just finished a 20-minute stare at the back of the guy’s head that’s in front of him, idly watching him texting under his desk, when his own phone vibrates. He doesn’t realise at first, stuck mindlessly on the guy’s screen that’s on the lowest brightness, until it vibrates again. And again.

Isak waits just until the teacher turns around to write on the board before he slips it out of his pants.

>  
> 
> **_Even <3 – 15.04_ **
> 
> _3 messages_
> 
>  

He frowns and blinks back up, phone under the table, and sees her busy trying to perfect a triangle she’s drawing. He lowers the brightness of his own screen. He’s almost sure he _told_ Even not to text him during class because it’s fucking _Nissen_. He takes one glance back up before tapping his code to unlock his phone.

 

> **_From Even <3 - 15.04_ **
> 
> Some guys are coming over to Nissen with graffiti cans
> 
> I’m pretty sure they’re going to do it during a class.
> 
> So if you hear windows breaking or something don’t worry but be safe anyway okay?
> 
> **To Even <3 - 15.05**
> 
> Ok ill be fine don’t worry :)
> 
>  

Isak debates writing his next text, fingers shaking a little bit but he presses send anyway.

 

> **To Even <3 - 15.06**
> 
> Are you coming too?
> 
> **_From Even <3 - 15.06_ **
> 
> No isak ;)
> 
> maybe next time
> 
> if you really want me to <3
> 
> **To Even <3 - 15.07**
> 
>  Bye Even.

 

It’s not until the school bell rings and Isak starts his walk home, he sees the graffiti painting, vibrant against the white. Teachers scattered around and the janitor already there to swipe colours away from the ground. His belly gnawing, when he thinks of Even with pretty glass around his feet.

 

**.Thursday – 02.12.**

 

Isak can’t sleep.

He can’t sleep because whenever he closes his eyes he sees Even’s eyes and his grin and it makes his belly flop in ways that make it impossible to sleep. The flashes aren’t even chronological. They don’t even make actual sense. He sees blue, he sees red.

Then, he sees gold and silver and doesn’t know who’s

It makes him grumble, honestly. It makes him toss around his sheets while staring at the red numbers ticking on and on. Whenever the minute takes too long, his mind thinks of fucking leather and smoke, his tongue dry and his fingers itching in

He debated whether to text Even or not, but he told Even goodnight long ago and figures he’s probably sleeping

Everything is biting and tugging and _pulling_ at Isak and he can’t stop it. His fingers are blindly, almost with instinct, grabbing for the rosary in his nightstand. He grabs it so tight his knuckles turn white and the patterns indent his

He thinks that maybe if Even leaned closer to him on that bench, or over to Isak’s seat in his car, he might not have stopped it.

What if, what if.

Isak, what the _fuck_ are you feeling? The question makes him stutter in his chest.

It’s—it’s out of his _control_. He’s terrified, nonetheless, that he knows. He’s never quite had a moment to question who he likes, _why_ he likes them—apart from the lingering and a bit of daring glance he’s done towards Jonas with his tongue between his teeth and his heart dropped to his knees.

But this, this is different.

He can’t think anymore; he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. Even makes his head spin in circles until it goes dizzy and he wants to throw up all the colours that are on Even’s fingers and the glass on the ground.

He’s seen girls, yeah, he’s also seen boys. But there was always something about who he is and how everyone is around him that he never really had, that—desire. Something gut punching and whatever it _does_ to tug his insides apart.

He rolls on his side and the thought of Even lying next to him to see make the sheets too hot. The rosary slipping out of his hand and landing on the wooden ground next to his bed. He looks at it and turns back on his back. Blonde curls sprawled on his white pillow.

He tries not to think of gold when he grabs the empty pillow next to his and curls his silver wearing arms around it.

 

**.Thursday - 7.30.**

He wakes up with red tear stained cheeks and wet blotches on the pillow cotton in the morning.

 

. **Thursday – 12.00.**

 

During the day, he tries to forget all about it. He ignores Even’s messages for all he can, giving him the ‘I’m really busy’ excuse.

It’s very limited success, because before he knows it his brain keeps jumping back on him when Isak is literally doing nothing—making him grab his phone and giving _in_ again.

He removed the heart next to his name though, that’s how far he got.

 

> **To Even – 12.01**
> 
> Jonas just waved the cheese that was on his sandwich in my face :(
> 
> I’m sitting alone now, just so you know.
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even -- 12.02_ **
> 
> Tough life
> 
>                                                                                                                                                                                                
> 
> **To Even -- 12.02**
> 
> Ugh
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even -- 12.02_ **
> 
> <3
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even – 12.04**
> 
> Stop sending me hearts
> 
> Teachers are still freaking out about the newest artwork Bakka left here.
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even -- 12.05_ **
> 
> Yeah, we got another lecture this morning :(
> 
> artwork Isak? ;)
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even – 12.05**
> 
> Psh, barely
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even -- 12.06_ **
> 
> You know a lot about graffiti? :)
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even – 12.06**    
> 
> Yeah
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even -- 12.06_ **
> 
> Yeah?
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even – 12.07**  
> 
> No wtf im a Nissen student
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even -- 12.09_ **
> 
> I’ll teach you!!
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even – 12.09**  
> 
> What
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even -- 12.10_ **
> 
> Spray-painting
> 
> I’ll teach you tomorrow!
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even – 12.14**
> 
>  No what!
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even -- 12.15_ **
> 
> Yeah :D
> 
> Tomorrow @ skate park after school!
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even – 12.15**
> 
> Jonas goes to skate after school????
> 
>  

 

_Incoming call – Even_

Shit.

“You can’t call me right now!” Isak hushes after picking his phone up, “I’m at school!”

He heard Even laugh and even through the white static of the phone it was so clear. Isak’s belly flopped left and right and he wanted to _grin._ After all those days texting him Isak felt warm all over to actually hear him.

“Sorry,” Even says, “I thought calling you would be easier for this.”

“For what?”

“Are you—are you alone, Isak?” Even asks. Isak’s cheeks flared up and he was cursing Even with everything he could.

“What the _fuck_?” He barely squeezes out, “Fy faen, I’m not having any of that!”

“I’m kidding,” The smile Isak could hear Even had made him smile stupidly. “Don’t worry, Nissen boy.”

“Don’t call me that!” He sputters.

Gold bled through Isak from his ears to his brain because Even was still laughing and it was the best fucking thing he ever heard through his phone. His head felt that similar high again from last Friday and he couldn’t believe he missed it this _much_ already.

“Sorry!” Even replies, “But, if you want I can pick you up around 1 at night tomorrow?”

Isak’s whole world stopped spinning for just a minute.

“What?”

“Well, then I can teach you! And no one will be there then.” Even muses and he was grinning, Isak could hear.

“Won’t it be, like, dark?”

“That’s usually the point.” Even continues. Isak kept silent and his head was racing, a mess of thoughts piling up after one of another. “Isak?”

“Yeah?”

“Only if you want, though.”

Then the pile of thoughts was swiped away by Even’s laugh and whispers and okay, _okay_. This is what he wanted, and Even understood it in ways that Isak never experienced someone to have.

“I want to.” He says.

“Okay.”

“Around 1?” Isak asks.

“Around 1.” Even repeats.

Isak was smiling so hard his cheeks were hurting. His fingers tracing the inside leg seam of his dress pants and he tugged a bit at a loose thread, smiling dimples onto his skin. His silver bracelet hidden under the grey jumper and caught in the loops of wool of it.

“See you tomorrow, then.” Even agrees.

“Hey, uh, Even?” Isak asks after snapping out of his trance.

“Yeah?”

“Can you pick me up where you dropped me off last time?”

“Of course.” Even told him, “Bye Isak.”

“See you tomorrow.”

His phone bleeped and the call ended. Isak was almost vibrating, his hands shaking and his heart beating so loud in his chest that his lungs didn’t have enough room to breathe. The calculus papers in his lap and yesterday’s midnight tears long forgotten.

 

**.Friday – 23.45.**

 

So, _that’s_ how Isak ended in front of his wardrobe at 11 at night.

His phone clutched in his hand and his window already opened a little bit. He debated to not wear his bracelet, but the thing was so tightly closed around his wrist he only managed to create angry red stripe-like marks on his skin from rolling it up and down so much.

His button up was thrown somewhere in a white puddle on the floor and he rummaged his closet until it was a blend of dark colours. Then he arranged it neat again, only to mess it up again. His back was starting to hurt from being hunched over for almost hours now and he was starting to lose hope.

Over a goddamn _shirt_ , he was about to lose hope.

Honestly, times like these he was almost grateful that he was stuck with a uniform almost every day. Yeah, the tie was horrible and the shirt itched his skin from his shoulders to his chest but at least he could mindlessly put it on every morning without thinking twice.

This, however, was hell in a drawer.

His mom had checked up on him already, in her night clothes telling him goodnight and to not stay awake for long while Isak did as if he was looking for a shirt to sleep in. Kissing her cheek and letting her ruffle his curls even though he hated every second of it.

Then he was clutching a black hoodie in his hands and shrugged when putting it on over a loose shirt. Ignoring the shaking in his fingers when he pulled it down all the way to his hips, hoping it wasn’t too noticeable how hard his heart was shamelessly racing over so many layers.

He hoped there weren’t any stains on it, knowing him. But after checking his mirror he nodded faintly and dropped down on his mattress. Phone clutched in his hand like it would jump away if didn’t held it tightly and eyes on the ceiling. So, he’s really doing this.

Last week he’d honestly would’ve broken down crying in panic, but he was pushing limits so much further now. The sneaking out isn’t what he was necessarily scared for, but it was how he was going to act around Even.

He was going to see Even again.

He smiled at the fucking thought and he was so gone but wouldn’t admit the tiniest bit of it. He hoped he’d return home smoke kissed, paint blessed and it was the best combination he could think of to lay back down on his white sheets with.

He was going to spend time for as long as he wanted with this boy and maybe it would be until a mix of yellow and orange hit the skyline. Maybe Even would look pretty against those colours instead of his usual black and neon fingers mix.

Isak was melting, bit by bit with silver drip dropping on white tiles.

But, he’s scared. A new kind of terrified that rooted deep in his gut and grew all the way up to his muscles and bones.

He wasn’t going to give, just yet he won’t. Because every day he’s restricted and every night he’s watched over by statues on his nightstand and his own _head_. So, he won’t yet, he couldn’t because what would it be worth if he just --dropped everything he was like _that_.

He huffed and stood back up from his bed, creaking his door to the tiniest split to hear if his father and mother were still snoring and breathing heavily in sync. They were, of course they already were. Turning back around on his sock-clad heel he saw his phone screen lighting up on his bed.

 

> **_From Even – 00.23_ **
> 
> I’m leaving rn, should be around yours in 15 minutes :) <3

 

Isak rubbed a hand over his eyes and nodded to himself. Okay, he _was_ doing this—he came this far.

He sneaked his shoes and jacket from the hall downstairs long ago, acting like he got a drink from the kitchen while he struggled for the fabric of his jacket to stop rubbing together. He kicked them under his bed but when he pulled them out from under there his heart was going to block off his entire throat.

He’d throw his Converse out the window to catch later when he was with his feet on the ground because they’d just be too loud against the wood of his bedroom floor. But his jacket was on already, scarf around his neck and a hat pulled over his curls because it was midnight in November and fucking cold.

His hand found the light switch and he hoped he had estimated his route alright. Because his room was dark and he couldn’t make a single noise or he’d never leave his house ever again.

When he tossed his shoes down they hit the grass with a small thud, bouncing off the ground and jumping away from each other. Isak looked until they were still before crawling to the tree next to his window.

It’s dark, alright. And he remembered climbing this tree when he was a kid, when he was a whole lot smaller and the branches didn’t poke him in his ribs. But it was okay, he didn’t feel much of it. His adrenaline on peeks and almost tasting a revelation in his throat.

His socked feet hit the ground but he still feels like he’s falling into freedom. The grass wet with dew droplets but he doesn’t care, he wants to laugh so hard his stomach stops turning and his world stops shaking. His shoes on and his phone back in his hand and he’s _running_ , the boy never felt so free.

Something – a fire, maybe a flame, maybe just a _spark_ – licks against his spine.

Chases him all the way to the end of the street where he allows himself to be stabbed in the lungs by the crystal cold air, allows himself to feel. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but it just feels fucking right because he’s never felt so alive from his fingertips to his toes.

Whilst his run to taste something like freedom he tries to slip on his shoes, stumbling and panting and _oh God_ what is happening to him.

A car drives in the street with full headlights until they turn off, driving all the way to the end where Isak uses the flashlight of his phone with shaking fingers to make sure he doesn’t run into a tree or trips over a pebble.

It stops next to Isak and it’s dark inside as well --Even _seemed_ to have turned off the button of the light. Isak laughs and jumps in the car almost tossing himself in the seat like a dead weight that makes the whole car shake. He hears Even laugh with him and it’s like being revived and dipped in gold all over again.

Isak can’t stop laughing the ache off, leaning against the headrest and throwing a hand over his eyes. It’s a dry laugh almost, but the fullest blown out of the heart red one he ever did.  When his chest is still shocking, he looks over to Even with his hand dropping to his neck.

“I did that.” He rasps and he wants to kiss Even just because he can.

He doesn’t and gets caught on the glint in Even’s eyes instead. All sparkling in the dark and his teeth just as white like they were in surrounded by black lights.

“You did that.” Even replies and laughs Isak back into oblivion.

When the car turns out of the street Even puts his headlights back on, the city lights suddenly lightening up his face and Isak can’t help but to _look_. He’s there next to him after all those days of texting and calling and he hasn’t changed a thing.

Still with his hair slicked back and his jacket on his shoulders, this time a scarf around his neck as well. His lips are parted a little bit; his nose is still sharp sloped and his eyebrows furrowed to look at the almost empty road. Isak catches him smiling when he looks sideways and notices Isak completely turning his head to the opposite of him.

“You up for learning?” Even asks with one hand on his steering wheel and the other leaning on the door with his elbow. Isak looks back at him and realises that this was the _purpose_ of sneaking out in the first place.

“Yeah, I mean,” Isak coughs to get the dryness out of his throat, “You pretty much forced me to.”

“I did not!” Even sputters and the wrinkling smile was back. “Completely gave you a choice!”

Isak was acting like he hadn’t thought of this since it was suggested and didn’t dream of it. Like he hadn’t looked at his hands this evening during dinner and expected the blue ink marks to be covered with neon pink and yellow.

“Yes, okay.” Isak says and Even looks over at him with raised brows. Isak looks down at his hands.

“Okay!” He gives in. “I wanted to learn.”

“Damn right you did, wanted to learn from the best as well.”

“Don’t let it get to your head!” Isak sputters and wanted to push Even if he hadn’t been driving. Even laughs and nods, Isak caught white biting his lip and then disappearing again.

“Learning from the master,” Even drifts off and Isak rolls his eyes. “C’mon, say it!”

“Say what? That you suck at it?”

“No! That, I’m the master of spray painting.” Even says while stopping at a red light.

 Isak felt his heart aureate his blood.

“Never.” Isak grins.

Even looks over to him and pushes his shoulder a little. The feeling of his hand shocking Isak from outer jacket to bone, he glances up at ice blue eyes with a bit of a scare in his chest --something like a faint memory of his lonely nights.

Even’s grin slowly disappeared, looking at Isak and his pupils blowing up again. Black cherries against blue and there’s Isak, forgetting how to breathe because he feels in the eye of a hurricane.

Even is looking from Isak’s eyes to Isak licking his lips and back up and the ice blue in his eyes is melting bit by _bit_ onto Isak’s tongue.

He wants to lean in. He’s _going_ to lean in.

Except he doesn’t because red becomes green and Even snaps the gaze away from him like scissors cutting a tight ribbon. Leaving Isak hanging limp in his hands.

They don’t talk anymore and just glance at each other until they reach the parking spots in front of the skate park. Even’s knuckles strained white against the steering wheel and Isak’s nails tugging and pulling at seams of his scarf. It’s not awkward, just quiet with the late night radio on the background.

“So,” Even starts when they stand still and parked and the yellow light above them hurts Isak’s eyes, “You ready to learn?”

“I’m ready to learn.” Isak smiles.

“From the master?”

“Yes, yeah from the fucking master.” Isak rolls his eyes but laughs anyway. “Fy faen, just go.”

Even nods and the car keys are back to dangling around his fingers, the cold hits Isak in the face like a punch. Even’s car was so warm he thought he was going to burn up, but opening the car door felt like dumping himself in an ice bath headfirst. Even doesn’t seem to mind though so Isak follows.

He’s walking to the front of the car and waits for Even to pop back up from the backseat, a plastic bag in his hand and his eyebrows raising and lowering at Isak with a smirk when Isak lingers on the bag.

“I know a spot where people don’t come a lot, so you can fuck up all you want.” Even says while Isak follows.

Long strides and making sure no one falls down the ramp later, Isak is leaning against the graffiti wall while he listens to the rumbling of the plastic bag and watches Even look for the right colour with his phone flashlight on.

“Where the fuck? Ah, here!” Even goes and raises the can in triumph. From the light shining Isak can make out a black cap and golden packaging. Of course, it’s _golden_.

“So we start with black?” Isak asks.

“We can start with any colour you like,” Even says while putting the can down on the ground, “It’s just easy to always have black at hand.”

“So any colour I want?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Even says and Isak furrows his brows, “Go pick one!”

Then Even is shining the white light onto Isak’s hands and Isak is rumbling through the bag, he can’t believe he’s doing _this_ for Christ sake. He had said a prayer for almost every lesson with his class earlier today and now he’s here with this boy who’s using his phone as a flashlight while Isak picks out a colour to spray paint the wall with.

He picks red.

And catches a glint of beer in the bag that causes Even to curse to himself.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to bring it.” He apologises and Isak raises a brow, “It’s just that it’s still in there from last week and forgot to take it out. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Isak shrugs and feels the slight pang in his chest because Even expected him to freak out about _beer._ “How does this work?”

The ball in the tin can is clicking and Even pulls back from the wall. Thumbing the cap off and looking for something in the bag. He pulls out a notebook and Isak just, stares.

“Usually you make a design somewhere and then you spray-paint it onto the wall or something.”

“Usually?” Isak says and Even laughs while looking down at it.

“Okay—okay, fine! I didn’t design ‘straight out of Elvebakken’ the day I went to Nissen.” He confesses while Isak’s fingers were cold against the can. “But usually you do! And I figured you didn’t really have any time for that so maybe you can just pick something from here?”.

The notebook was pressed against the wall and Even was behind him shining his phone on the pages while Isak was going through the pages. Black with scribbles and colour captions with numbers. Some drawings taking half a page and others taking the whole width of the book.

“Shit, Even.” Isak says whilst he flipped page after page, “This is- this is really good.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Even’s smile widen, felt him coming closer as he leaned over Isak to see what page he was on. It didn’t really matter because everything was good. Every single drawing traced with felt pen. Some didn’t look like graffiti style to Isak, but it didn’t make it any less pretty.

“You think so?” Even asks and _fuck,_ if that was his breath on Isak’s ear. Voice all low and Isak felt him looking more at his cheek than at the paper’s Isak was holding. And Isak—Isak  was there feeling the adrenaline kick back up and his heart back in his throat.

If only he turned his head to the right and gave in to the amalgam of cologne, mint and smoke. If he just turned that little bit and let himself explode into gold.

But Even was too close for comfort, going too _fast_ and Isak stepped forward. His chest almost against the wall but Even understood by the way he made a step backwards.

It was a fucking mess of tin balls clicking in cans and ‘sorry’ muttered while they both regained balance without being too close to each other.

“You picked one out, then?” Even asks after a little bit and Isak nodded.

“It looks really cool, Even.” He says and gave the book back on the page where the design was.

“I’ll draw the outline if you want?”

Isak nods.

 

 .

 

There was something incredibly fascinating in watching Even spray paint, the way he stepped forward and backwards and left and right. Turning his head until his hair couldn’t take it anymore and popped out in random places. His hand kept running through it and slowly red was creeping up to stain his fingers.

He shook the can and Isak listened to the clicking while he stared at Even.

“You wanna give it a go?”

Isak blinks at him and saw Even holding the can out for him, nails stained red. The tin had warmed up from Even’s hands and Isak tested the weight in his hand. Shaking it and turning to the red stripes on the wall. Even was staring at him so much he thought he was going to fall over.

“So I just go then?” Isak asks.

“Yeah,” Even nods.

Then he was spraying and didn’t know what he was doing, he’s never been much of a painter, but the thrilling that danced around his knees was enough to let him know that what he was doing was right.

It was right-- and this might go down as the best night Isak ever had, smelling like paint and with Even’s eyes on him.

Even laughs when Isak sprays through his outline without paying any attention to it, he laughs until Isak’s hands shake and more and more colours build up. He’s maybe a bit more messy than he’s supposed to be, but his fingers are cold and he wants to coat them with paint more than anything.

He feels all, sparkling and maybe turned on --not like in a way for _sex_ , just that he’s been stuck on standby mode for years and Even suddenly blew the dust from him and made him feel so _alive_. Heart beating in his throat and he can feel it when he swallows but he doesn’t care.

It _is_ fucking awesome.

That’s exactly what he says and Even laughs again. Isak almost feels like he needs to thank him, thank him for getting under his walls instead of trying to climb up them. Because these are experiences Isak is never going to forget and wishes he could polaroid frame forever.

“You’re doing great.” Even tells him and he smiles down at Isak. The flashlight of his phone on the wall.

It shines so bright onto the wall that Even looks completely indulged in the dark, Isak wishes so secretly for it to be daylight.

“Told you I’d be better at it than you.”

Even grins brighter and Isak can’t help but to drown in it.

“Is spray-painting an art?” Isak asks, standing up straight to see whatever he painted the best he could. “Like, is it really like painting—drawing or music? Not just the street rep it has?”

Even hums, hand on the wall and taps his fingers on his thigh to indicate he’s thinking. Not like it takes him long, no, he shrugs.

“It is, even with the whole street rep-- I think everything has art in it.”

“Everything?” Isak snorts, “Some things can’t be seen like art, Even, like murder, or-- or _rape_. That’s not art, besides art is subjective. One person likes a renaissance but the other likes a can of coke taped to a wall.”

Even thinks longer, furrowing his brows whilst his teeth capture his bottom lip and then nods, “You’re right,” he says, “some things aren’t art—objectively _and_ subjective.”

He waits and watches Isak going back with the spray, lack of care on the fact that his clothes are bound to be covered in the red colour by how close he’s standing.

“Some things though,” Even continues while looking up at Isak, stare captured enough even in the ink sky, “some things—some _people_ , are an art, no— _are_ art.”

If it weren’t for the cold making Isak’s hand grip the can so tight, he would’ve dropped it to clatter.

.

 

Two hours later Isak’s fingers don’t have any kind of feeling anymore, the apples of his cheeks hurt from the cold and smiling but he feels a warm buzzing all over. Even has a faint streak of red on his cheek that Isak notices when he’s packing up the bag again and he feels like they match in some sort.

They’re walking back to Even’s car in silence; The flashlight in front of their feet so they don’t trip on anything and Isak notices the clock ticking to 4:00. It’s late but he doesn’t feel tired yet, he doesn’t think he can even try to sleep because his body is downright shaking with every move he does.

“You cold?” Says Even when Isak huffed out a white breath onto his red fingers behind him.

“A little,” Isak admits, “It’s- it’s okay, though.”

“You should’ve told me! I would’ve gone and started my car a little earlier so it was warm in there.”

Okay, suddenly Isak wasn’t that cold anymore because his fucking cheeks were burning. Even was looking at him like he should be carried and Isak couldn’t speak. His voice stuck next to his heart in his throat.

“I-it’s,” He coughs, “It’s okay.”

Then Isak’s feet were moving on own accord, tempo quick. He just wanted to walk pass Even, he really did. But somehow he ends up against his chest with smoke cologne making his head dance. He just walked into Even’s arms like he fucking belonged in there.

Even felt knocked back for a minute, taking a step back before dropping the plastic bag on the ground with loud clutters. Isak hoped colours were spilling. Even hooking his arms around Isak’s shoulders so tightly and Isak thought he was going to slip through his fingers if he didn’t. Wanted Even to hold him tight like butterfly trophies pinned against the wall.

Isak’s nose is squished against Even’s scarfed neck, it’s pale and naked and smells like the goddamn revolution Isak needed to have. Even’s cheek resting on his curls, Even’s nose in his hair, Even’s lips on his forehead.

He hoped the colours were spilling so he had something to associate the explosion in his belly with.

Friends hug like that, right?

So, they’re standing there, completely in silence and indulged in each other.

The leather squeaking against his own jacket and it reminds Isak from the first time he met him, all digging fingers and angry eyes. How they ended up hugging in the middle of the night when all the blinds are down in every house? Isak didn’t know.

Like the rubber band he was when hugging Even, he snapped back. Hands slipping off Evens back and his nose coming up for air because he just needed to breathe and feel how cold it was to know he’s alive. Then Even’s grip was going loose around his neck and Isak was falling.

He was falling so hard he was going to collide and explode in silver later.

Even was looking at him with that diamond glint that shined just right in the dark, breathing out of his mouth onto Isak’s nose. Hands sliding to Isak’s arms and his fingers gripping in the fabric. Heavy breaths and heavy hearts as he stares at Isak and waits.

“Thank you.” Isak said, pulse stuttering.

A gust of flames in Isak’s belly, Even smiles in the dark. He takes a step backwards and drops his hands from Isak’s arms. Isak’s cheeks probably as red as the paint kissing his fingers.

They walked back to the car with Isak’s shoulders lingering, his wrist burning codes onto his skin. He looks down at his shoes, pretends he can see them in the dark and waits for Even to unlock the car. So, they can repeat what they did last week, he supposed.

But when Even sits in the car next to him and the heater is up and running they don’t move. Isak doesn’t, Even doesn’t and the goddamn car doesn’t. They just sit there and he wants to hear anything, wants to hear a thousand words from Even that go from sugar to massacres with their lips.

It’s quiet, apart from the heater buzzing, until Even rasps his throat. “How strict is Nissen?”

Isak blinks, turns to look at Even who’s looking at him with a little bit of uncertainty playing in his usual sparkle. Isak swallows and it feels like razor blades going down his throat.

“Nissen is okay, it’s just,” Isak starts and he can’t believe he’s going to admit this to someone, “It’s just the, parents that are strict.”

Even nods, Isak looks away again. It’s that feeling- like butterflies, spikes stuck and locked behind his rib cage with his heart sweeter than candy. It all comes up and sticks to the back of Isak’s teeth, molding a cement wall around his tongue so he looks away from Even.

“Like it’s,” Isak starts again, he needs to get it off his chest or he’s going to suffocate, “It’s all prayers in Nissen before class starts yeah, and not cursing or something. But in the end, more than half didn’t choose to wear fucking uniforms all day.”

“Did you?” Even asks and it goes silent. Isak’s fingers are crawling under his jackets sleeve and he feels the bracelet around his wrist cold and grounding. “Did you want to go there?”

“No.” 

Even doesn’t say anything more. Just looks in front of him. There’s tension, string connecting them like electricity over the handbrake. They both ignore it. Maybe out of pettiness, or maybe because it acted more like a time out than a tugging rope.

Isak sighs shakily and there’s something prickling behind his eyes. His chest so, _so_ heavy and he bites on the inside of his cheek to make to bubble inside him smaller.

He just wants.

He wants to break and wants to wake up after dreams of Even _next_ to Even. He wants to see Even and wants to feel him but everything is a goddamn wall and more a curse than a blessing.

Even twists the keys further and starts the car all the way. The clock display reading 4:31 and almost acts hypnotic. The radio with midnight songs and barely audible. Isak hopes his neighbour doesn’t work the early shift today.

“You look happier without your uniform on.” Even says after a while. Isak snaps up.

“Yeah? It’s more comfortable than my uniform.” He mumbles back.

“You _also_ look good in hats.

Isak feels hotness crawl up from the back of his neck and blames the red colour on the stain from his fingers. He doesn’t want to go home.

They’re driving back into Isak’s street and Even turns his headlights back off. Goes all the way back to the end of the street and then stops. His hands slipping down the steering wheel onto his lap, fingers curled. They’re back at the same spot like last week and a sense of déjà vu tugs at Isak.

Isak wants to confess this time, wants to tell Even and his eyes all about his rough nights and how his knees are bruised from falling down to them next to his bed with his fingers intertwined. Wants to tell him about knocked over statues and lamps and hot tears with cotton pillows.

He doesn’t. He thinks of diamonds breaking into coloured glass instead.

He’s feeling like he’s about to figure out what he needs. Something he’s been pondering over for weeks-- Even giving him all these chances but he just sat back with his back against his wall. Waits and wonders until a pattern starts and he gets used to the butterfly wings tickling his insides. He never did.

“Hey, there’s a party next week?” Even starts, and it’s maybe the first time Isak hears him be somewhat nervous, “You don’t have to come though, if you don’t want to.”

But next week seems so long away from now and the thought of having to spend days with feelings like snakes inside him seems almost _impossible_.

“Yeah?” Isak asks.

“Yeah,” Even nods and then they’re looking at each other again and acting like the whole incident on the parking lot didn’t happen, “Mikael and Adam are probably coming too, so maybe you all can get on good terms with each other.”

“You mean, the guys who almost beat me up at Nissen?”

“They didn’t beat you up!” Even protests and he’s grinning and coming closer again. The car is becoming too hot hot hot and Isak’s throat cuts off. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Isak is _hooked_ , but doesn’t admit it to himself and acts like it’s his worst secret yet.

“I don’t know,” Isak mumbles, “About the party, I mean.”

“That’s chill, text me when you do.” Even smiles and it’s so genuine that Isak’s fingernails start to bite half-moon marks on his palms. The light and dark makes Even’s pupils go big and noir again and the icicle-cold blue drops down every notch of Isak’s spine.

Isak just watches him smile, sugary sweet and golden dipped, and lets spring flowers blossom through his body during the winter.

He wants to ask Even, “do you feel this too?” but the mere thought is ridiculous. He himself doesn’t know what he’s feeling. But he’s never met someone who enchanted him through a text message or a grin this much.

He’s going to break someday, he fears.

Maybe today, because Even is bringing a hand to his cheek and with rough finger pads swiping the blonde curls away from his forehead and tugging them in the warmth of his hat. He’s melting, can’t breathe because this boy is real and affectionate.

He looks at Even while Even dances fingers around the apples of his cheeks, caressing softly with the back of his fingers and Isak feels his knuckles against his cheekbone. All soft, all real and he’s smiling through it. Looking at Isak like he just gave him the greatest privilege he could ever receive.

They’re barely touching his skin, opening up like a flower until the warmth of Even’s palm is cupping his whole cheek. His hand pushes a little, and Isak moves his head with it and pushes back, Even’s fingertips hidden under his hat. Nuzzling that little bit in his hand. He could just lean in, he could _just lean in_.

Isak’s eyes flutter that closed and he licks his lips, not sure if this looks like he’s refusing Even or giving more into him. He doesn’t give a single care, just lets himself feel. Let’s himself smell the paint and musk that must be sprayed on his wrists. Let’s himself be caressed and praised by rough fingers and he doesn’t care.

There’s only breathing in the car, heavy sharp breaths through noses and hitching charms.

Isak waits, and waits until that feel of Even being close to him returns. But it doesn’t, and he ends up opening his eyes again to see a weak smile that he returns. One more comb through his hair and Even pulls back.

“Hope you had a good time, Isak.” He whispers. Isak nods, he can finally breathe.

“I think you should go to bed now, though.” Even adds on with a grin and Isak laughs, turning in his seat with his head thrown back against the cushion.

“I think you probably should as well,” Isak replies and gives Even the prettiest smile he can muster.

“Goodnight, Isak.”

“Goodnight, Even.”

Then Isak is throwing the door closed behind him and leaves his heartaches in the car. Stands there a little stunned on the side walk until he tries to figure out how the fuck he’s going to climb back in his room without breaking a leg.

 

**.Saturday – 11.31.**

“Isak?” He hears from the hallway behinds his door and groans at the ray of light that’s shining onto his face.

“Isak?” His mother tries again.

“Yeah?” He grumbles and turns around onto his belly. Hugging his pillow until his face was buried in white.

“It’s 11.30, when are you planning to get up?” There’s a bit of stern in her voice and he knows he can’t joke around, “I’ll leave your breakfast on the table for another half an hour, okay?”

“M’ up, m’ up.” He groans into the cotton but his eyes shut on own accord any moment he tried to open them for longer than exactly 2 seconds.

“Are you sick?” She asks and he just wants her to go _away_.

“No.”

“Okay, half an hour.” His door closes again and hears footsteps fading out.

He flops back onto his back and his hand rubs his eyes. He’s got a headache from the little bit of sleep he got, he fell asleep when he saw the first colours of orange hit the skyline.  He was a bit too high on paint, adrenaline, and dare he admit, Even to go to sleep. He just gazed out the window instead, after kicking his jacket and shoes back under his bed.

His hair is in knots from the tossing and turning he did in his sleep, dreams of red and golden cans.

He tosses the blanket off of him eventually, walking to the bathroom while dragging his feet and he feels like a goddamn truck hit him full on and broke his legs and his ribs. He stops in front of the mirror and gazes up after wetting his toothbrush. He almost drops it with a clang in the sink.

Because that’s _red_ on the side of his face.

Red bleeding up and up onto his hairline, in lazy streaks from his cheek that look dried up and cracking open slowly. He’s frowning and leans closer to the mirror. It’s too vibrant to be blood, with thin coats of crimson and almost borderline neon onto his skin.

When the memories settle in where he got paint on his face, Isak isn’t sure whether to be captivated or frightened. He thinks he’s both, if it was possible. Butterflies back in his ribs and fluttering. Creating hurricanes turning left and right.

This is because of Even, for Christ sake.

Even _painted_ him, maybe subconscious but it makes Isak want to sob and scream while smiling all his teeth to the earth. He didn’t kiss him, rarely touched him, but he painted him because he _knew_ Isak wanted to be coloured like that. He’s staring back at himself in the mirror with a mix of swooning green and blushing pink and red. Even made him into art.

He stares at the streaks while brushing his teeth, notices his own red fingertips and his heart leaps.

But makes a mental note to check his white sheets later. He stretches it out for as long as he can, before washing his face. He scrubs at the paint, picks at it with his fingers until the foam turns pink. He ignores how his heart line almost falls flat when he sees it go down the drain in coloured swirls against marble, wants to dissolve in it.

Thinking of skipping hearts and mind blowing laughs when he shuffles back to his room,  he grabs his phone from the nightstand where it was charging and skips through his messages. They’re all Even’s anyway.

 

> **_From Even - 5.12_ **
> 
> I’m home and miss u already :((
> 
> Goodnight Isak <3
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even – 9.21_ **
> 
> I really, really hope you want to come to the party, Isak.
> 
>  

Isak smiles at his phone so wholeheartedly; wants to lay back in his bed and stare at his ceiling with a stupid grin eating him away. Ready to send ridiculous heart emojis back. But, his mother is already threatening back up the stairs and he’s grabbing yesterday’s white button up from the floor.

Zipping up his pants when he walks down the hall and buttoning his shirt when he leaps off the stairs. Tries to ignore all the glowing he’s going through, focuses on the stiff collar on his shirt. How his bracelet hooks loops in the cuff that tickle his skin until he scratches it red.

His headache melting away slowly, plopping down onto the chair in the kitchen and cracking the shell of his boiled egg open. He peels at it slowly and ignores the remaining pink that he’s leaving on the back of the shells.

 

**.Saturday – 23.21.**

He’s dragged himself back up the stairs at what seemed like an unsuspicious time to say he was going to bed. Hid his phone away almost all day like it was something illegal to have, he just knew he’d start smiling at it if he used it too much.

With the lights still on, he flipped his covers to see any remaining red stains. There were soft pink streaks on his pillow but he didn’t seem to mind it all too much. It’s something to keep, his own personal souvenir if he couldn’t have Even on that pillow, something to bury, something to hide.

He’s looking out his window and sees the streak of green under his windowsill, from his shoes and climbing up, when he notices the thick snowflakes falling down the ink-dark sky. Tumbling down like white clusters on the green grass and the tree in front of his window. His phone vibrated.

 

> **_From Even – 23.21_ **
> 
> Isak!!
> 
> It’s snowing!!  
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even -- 23.22**
> 
> Yeah, I’m looking at it
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even -- 23.22_ **
> 
> So cute!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even -- 23.22**
> 
> Yeah :)

 

He’s sort of melting, never felt warmer when snow fell. Something odd twisting in his gut again and it doesn’t feel like innocent butterflies anymore. Hurricanes, earthquakes, tornados breaking his ribs and Even shielding his heart. A boy with gold and a boy with silver.

 

 

> **To Even – 23.23**  
> 
> Hey Even?
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even - 23.23_ **
> 
> Yeah?
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even -- 23.25**
> 
> I want to.
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even -- 23.25_ **
> 
> See you Friday then <3

 

He doesn’t tell him that he wants more than that. Turning his back on the statues on his nightstand and remaining pink fingers hooking under the bracelet with a tugging force. An angry wind chime outside sound that echoes in his ears and plucks at his heartstrings.

At night he hugs his pillow again with the forgotten confessions on his lips he’d never admit. Maybe to Even he will.

He adds the heart back to Even’s contact right before he falls asleep.

 

 **_L_** _ike a domino, These wildfires grow and grow  
_ _Until a brand new **world** takes shape._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me [here](https://evenbechneiheim.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to say hi!


	3. Sea Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change of heart under the stars-- happens to the best of us, don’t it? featured: Romeo and Juliet, beer bottles and openers, midnight drives and a bit more than just a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! hey! im here yet again! 
> 
> a bit of a big one, haha, i must say that i feel so blessed with the amount of support im getting-- thank you so much <3\. I really can't describe how it feels!!! 
> 
> special-- many special, thanks to [Gaya](http://greathalesonfire.tumblr.com/) for one of the coolest [insta edits](http://greathalesonfire.tumblr.com/post/166264827139/paint-my-conscience-gold-by-evenbechneiheim) ever, thank you so so much im still crying just thinking about it <333
> 
> without any further hussle, my peeps, here is the next chapter!!! a bit of a big one-- but i hope you like it either way <3

**3 – SEA DRAGON**

**_M_ ** _y habits, they hold me like a grudge  
_ _I promise I won't_ **budge** _._

****

**.Monday – 8.46.**

Isak’s Monday starts with the livid speech of the headmistress thrown at their heads.

Her voice is high, pitched and hurts to the ears. Something he winces at, a headache shooting up through his temples and he leans back in his chair. There’s something empty gnawing in his chest, growing bigger and bigger the longer she speaks through the microphone.

“And if there’s something you know, who might be responsible for these for example, please don’t hesitate to come tell us.”

There’s giggling through the room, of course. Boys in uniform whispering ‘ _Bakka_!’ to their friends with a stupid grin, girls playing with the hems of their skirts. Isak grabs his phone a little tighter and buries his nose in his scarf, or were it his scarlet blushing cheeks?

He notices Jonas making a sound of sympathy, follows his stare and sees one girl sitting on the windowsill corner.

Her books are trapped against her chest so harsh he sees the strain of muscle on her arms, skirt draped over to her bruising knees, and her hair a little too messy for it to be dress code friendly. It doesn’t click who it is in Isak’s head until she pops her head up and there’s dark blue painted under her eyes.

“Eva?” He asks Jonas.

Jonas nods, shrugs and looks back away. She looks over at Isak and something, _shifts_ inside of him.

 

.

 

When he’s head bowed to the prayers to the marble stone statue in the middle of his Biology lesson, he realises what the feeling was.

The absence of flaring guilt.

 

**.Wednesday - 18.10.**

He’s 4 problems in his algebra homework on his laptop when his phone vibrates. Hair spiked up everywhere on his head in golden pillars and eyes angry red from all the rubbing he gave them.

 

 

> **_From Even <3 – 18.10_ **
> 
> I’m so bored
> 
> rip           
> 
>                                                                                                                                                                                  
> 
> **To Even <3 -- 18.11**
> 
> Same ://
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even <3 -- 18.11_ **
> 
> Hey, your window is the high left one, right?
> 
> with the tree??                                                                                                                                                                                       
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even <3 -- 18.11**
> 
> What 
> 
> wtf u ok
> 
>  
> 
> **_From Even <3 -- 18.14_ **
> 
> Yeah! :D                                                                                                                                                                
> 
>  
> 
> **To Even <3 -- 18.16**                                                                                                   
> 
> What??    
> 
>                                                                                                                                                     
> 
> **To Even <3 -- 18.28                                                                                     **
> 
>  Even???

 

There’s silence apart from typing until something pops against his window. Somehow, he didn’t really give it a second glance. Grumbling something about it raining again and turning back around to his laptop, about to put his headphones back on until-,

Pop, _pop_ , **_pop_**.

“What the fuck?” He mumbles, standing up and walking over to his window.

Then, drawing back his curtains and hearing a new pop against the glass flares something up in his chest. He stumbles back, heart in his throat until it _clicks_ in his head. Like tiny puzzle pieces. With heavy steps, he walks back to it, opening it and barely avoiding a stone going straight in his room.

“Even!” He’s trying to yell as hushed as possible, fingers crawling closed around his windowsill and he tries to ignore the sparkling in his stomach. “You can’t—you can’t be _here_! What the fuck?!”

But Even never has been quite the rule follower, Isak supposed.

Because suddenly Even is right in front of him, folding around the tree branches with red fingers from the cold and his hair falling in front of his eyes. Gold against blue and the leather squeaking makes Isak’s chest and throat tighten closed. He’s got something like a square box trapped between his teeth, his lips grinning around it.

“Even,” He tries again, somewhat more desperate and suddenly aware of the beat of his heart. Onward to break his ribs, yes. His voice is squeaking like the leather almost, breaking that little bit at the end which makes Even look up to Isak.

Even nods his head towards Isak and Isak steps aside so Even can slide into his room. Somewhere whilst turning a strip of skin from his hip got exposed, white against the falling evening and Isak must bite his fingers into his palms to ignore the wanton shaking them; It’s like he wants to touch it, almost.

Ridiculous thought, that he knows.

Even takes the box from his mouth again, shrugging his shirt back in the right position.

“Thank fuck you opened that window, I was freezing.” He says.

Isak looks up and meets his gaze, the box trapped around Even’s fingers and suddenly, he forgets the way his heart is beating almost deafening his ears. Forgets how almost, fundamentally _wrong_ this is and how his parents could literally barge in any time.

How Even’s back is literally turned to the stone statues on his night stand.

“Hey,” Even starts, voice soft and it reminds Isak of the bubbles they create together in his car, “If you want me to leave, I’ll just go. Okay?”

It’s probably the silence that caught Even, or the way how Isak is trying to ignore the way his knees are shaking. Looking down at his feet, he wore red socks today and it almost makes him laugh.

“Isak?”

But Isak looks up and he just can’t resist that stare, all honest and giving and it grounds him deep until the bone. Ice blue from his skull to his toes.

“No, it’s—it’s chill.” He tells Even, shrugging and smiling a little at the way Even smiles to him. His shoulders slowly relaxing at the way Even looks at him almost pearlescent, all relieved and clear as well. “I’ll just, go lock my door-- wait.”

He’s making his way to the door until he realises that, maybe in the first couple times in his life, he should’ve listened to his mother because his room is an honest to god _mess_. His uniform laid on the wood like it’s his carpet, the books on his bookshelf threatening to fall out and the clothes next to his bed for sure not fresh.

“I brought a movie,” Even mused behind him, either blind or just acting oblivious to the mess, “’Cause we were both bored, so.”

“So?” Isak says when the key clicks in the lock. Turning around with a squint and a grin.

“ _So_ we could watch it together?” There’s a lingering of hope in Even’s tone where Isak can’t help but tease at.

“I have to study,” Isak sputters and walks to his desk, hopes his back shields off the way the desk is littered with too colourful candy wraps and empty water bottles.

“Yeah, but two is _always_ better than one.”

Isak hates the way how he feels when Even gives him that teasing tone, nagging at his nose almost with raised eyebrows and a stupid smirk. So, he shrugs instead, looking up at his ceiling as if he’s all in deep thoughts even though they both know it’s all a mantra of Even.

“You’re going to study with me, then?” He says, raising an eyebrow at Even with his chin tipped upwards.

Even’s lips curl upwards and he laughs. Runs a hand through his hair and pulls the locks that escaped back into place. Looking at Isak with, almost fondness, dare he say. He’s stepping closer and Isak notes his own chin is still tipped up and the way Even’s is leaning down dangerously. His smile turning a shade darker and his teeth going a tint whiter.

“I mean, if that’s what you want.” Even says, Isak can smell the mint on his breath. “I didn’t bring my books though.”

Tension flicks back up the air, like a coloured wildfire licking around their feet and Even waits. Taunts him or tries to lure him in, but Isak doesn’t give in like he’s bait. He lets the moment pass between them by grabbing the movie from Even’s hand a little too rough, maybe.

His eyes go big at the title; it was _probably_ the last thing he expected from Even.

“Romeo + Juliet?”

“It’s a masterpiece, Isak!” Even tells him while taking a step backwards, his voice going a little too loud and Isak winces at it. Even picks up on it, “Sorry.”

“It’s a love story?” Isak replies.

“All stories are love stories if you try enough.”

Isak tries to ignore how that makes his heart tighten and hopes his cheeks don’t go red again, with the way how hot the room suddenly became. A burning knife suddenly against his throat and he can’t breathe again.

“Yes but,” Isak starts after a cough, his arms trying to make something clear in the air between them but it isn’t quite working with the way Even has his eyebrows still raised at him. “It’s Romeo and Juliet?”

“It’s Romeo and Juliet.” Even repeated and then smiled at Isak. “Get your laptop. Hey, your bed looks comfortable.”

Isak blinked. White static interrupting his thoughts because yeah, that was Even suddenly against his bed sheets. Still in jacket and shoes and hair sprawled against the pillow next to Isak’s. Golden strings blending together on white and Isak was flabbergasted. Tongue swallowed and fingers itching.

“Isak?”

Even leaned up, resting on his elbows and he had his eyebrows back up. He swore they were going to recede into his hairline one day, or stuck forever like that.

“Get your dirty shoes from my bed, punk.” Isak barely managed to stumble out before he grabbed his laptop from his desk and dipped next to Even on the mattress.

There’s squeaking leather again, crackling of sheets, the way Isak’s bed isn’t used to the weight and Even almost ‘accidently’ pushing Isak to the ground. The desperate grasp for his laptop and the way their hands brushed together and totally didn’t create a spark that lifted from his fingertips to his toes.

 

.

 

“The screen is black. Your movie is broken.”

“Isak, the movie just started.” Even laugh is so much closer to his ears now and he tries to ignore it all.

But he can’t really do it, no, only looks at the mirror like black screen on his laptop and sees the way how Even is looking at _him_ instead of the screen. His face rippling over the glass and Isak stares into his own green, looks how scared he truly reflects when the only thing he can see is Even’s profile with a stupid smile towards him.

He’s holding his breath until the title screen comes up and the seconds are back to themselves and aren’t hours anymore. Meets Even’s eyes in the screen and joins him in the grin on his lips.

 

.

 

An hour in, Isak’s head full with the way Even whispers information to him. He notices the way how Even’s arm started from next to him, to on his headboard, to fingertips touching his own shoulder. His heart rate almost to be heard because they brushed, then caressed, then tapped and now are slowly making a home on his shoulder.

So, naturally, Isak blames it on the blue kiss on the screen when he throws his torso forward.

“Hm?” Even asks and Isak’s head is going too fast fast _fast_.

“Interesting way to have your first kiss.” He replies and hopes Even doesn’t notice the way his voice is close to vibrato. His spine starting to hurt with the way it’s bend and the bone hits the wooden headboard.

“Very romantic, you mean.”

“Very _wet_.” Isak tries around the sudden awareness of heaviness of their breaths and the moment is lost again. Even’s laugh soft and almost just a chuckle, enough to make Isak’s heart skip a beat and his ribs shake again. Everything wrapped around the fact Even has never been so close to him.

When he decides, he’s had enough and leans back, the arm is gone and he can’t help but bite the inside of his cheek in disappointment he’d never admit. Tries to ignore the stare from the statue boring into his neck, slumps backwards and wishes he could curl around Even’s arms instead.

 

.

 

“Isak?”

Isak sniffles his nose, a headache coming in and how did they end up like this again?

“Isak are you—are you _crying_?”

“No?”

Okay, he could’ve tried harder than a watered down ‘ _no’_ that barely squeezed itself out of his throat. Because now Even is giving him that stupid laugh and a shoulder bump that was too harsh to go unnoticed.

“You are.” It’s the way Even says it, a lot less teasing he expected it to be, that makes Isak shrug in honesty. “You so are! You have any tissues?”

“No.” Isak says again. Even snorts.

“Of course not.” He snickers.

“Fuck off, I’m going to the bathroom.”

The blush creeping up his neck must be visible now, for sure. A mess of pillows he has to swim through and his duvet too tangled up around him, somehow he throws all of those things on Even to bury his giggles away. All on the laughing boy in his fucking _bed._

He flips Even off when he tries to open the door and forgot that it’s still locked. Looking up how Even’s head is the only thing popping up from the white pool Isak put him in, a little burst of sequins filling his lungs by the way how Even is staring at him again.

Side way plastered grin and messy gold tangled on his head, it makes Isak’s heart go that tad bit faster and his lips ache.

He just, _wants_. Maybe he can be that honest and admit that to himself.

But he turns around on the heel of his foot instead, unlocking the door and throwing it closed behind him to walk to the bathroom. Still smiling because he just can’t, manage to stop it. Like his cheeks are stuck in that position, somehow.

Clicking on the light, he sees himself in the mirror first. Stupidly grinning and cheeks scarlet red with some remaining wet trails on them. That loose shirt he always wears when he just wants to be comfortable with more folds than ever now, but he doesn’t bring himself to care.

Grabs a tissue out of the cabinet instead and hums to himself.

When he walks back to his room and opens his door halfway the footsteps behind him suddenly make him slam it back shut, standing in front of it with the crippled tissue in his hand and the most innocent smile he can muster before he turns around.

He’s met with his dad, with a raised eyebrow, and sighs the relieve away. He wouldn’t follow Isak back into his room, at least.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah!” He squeaks back, clears his throat and nods, “Yes, everything is fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look too good.”

It’s almost comical how Isak’s eyes go big, shrugging at his dad. He hopes, so hard, that he’s the good liar he told Even he is.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just, watching a movie.”

“Okay,” His dad goes and slowly turns into the bathroom, staring at Isak all the way until he closes the door behind him and Isak can go in his own room without raising hell. Twists the lock as fast as he can before he turns around and _oh_ -,

Even is suddenly really close in front of him.

“Trouble?” He asks and Isak swallows, shaking his head. Eyes on the print of Even’s shirt and throat so dry.

It’s like Even is a magnet and Isak is a compass that constantly points North to him.

“It’s alright, my dad probably thinks I’m a big baby that cries at cheesy movies now though.”

Even laughs, Isak wants to drown in it. Kiss it away like they did in the pool in the movie. There’s small things he’s starting to notice on Even, the freckle in his neck, the stain on his shirt or the smear of gasoline on his jeans.

Nothing beats the signature coloured fingers though. The grooves darkened by what seems to be charcoal and something in him wants to hold his hand, feel the roughness and imprint and Isak can’t _take_ anymore he’s falling so hard for Christ sake.

“You just cry at masterpieces.”

Isak looks up and the usual burning smirk has changed. Changed to something he doesn’t recognise, something fond. Something to live for with those going black eyes and it feels like destiny in his chest. It’s a spark, between them as a starting fire on Isak’s bedroom floor and he’s leaning in.

He’s leaning in, chest bared and throat stuck, and this time, it feels _right_.

“Isak.” He hears, soft and a whisper to his ears. Shadows brimming his mouth and Isak’s eyes are glued on it.

Kiss me, he wants to scream, just kiss _me_.

And Even leans his head down, eyes drooping and a hand heavy on Isak’s arm. Gold on silver and Isak becomes a step closer to being his own masterpiece each second Even hesitates to come closer, nails grounding in his skin as if it’s the only thing to keep him grounded from flying. Or falling.

They’ve come this close, nose to nose and heart to heart. Sharing the same hot air and he falls more into it, goes deeper in what he wants in his chest and let’s his head scream. Let’s his ribs burst and his stomach explode like artwork.

They’ve come this close, until Isak’s mother is banging at the door.

Pulling his head back so fast makes his head bump into the door hard. A white pain shooting in front of his sight and Even’s hand leaves his arm to make him realise that _shit_ -, he’s not even supposed to be here.

“Isak?” More knocking and fumbling at the door handle and his head is going in overdrive. Pushing Even to the ground and almost kicking him under his bed with his heart in his throat. “Isak why is your door locked?!”

“A minute!” He tries while not trying to hit Even’s face as he throws his shoes under there as well.

“Isak!”

“Yeah, yeah I’m on my way! Chill!” He clicks the lock back and is met with the stare that makes him want to crawl next to Even under his bed. She’s shorter than him, but is straightened up in a way that almost makes Isak look up to her.

He brings the stupid innocent smile back on and blinks at her. She’s not buying it. To be fair, it looks like she’d rather punch him or something. Her arms crossed and her neck up high so Isak just is reminded, of what’s around it.

“Why aren’t you studying?”

Isak blinked.

“I was,” He replied, shrugging and making sure he turns just the right way so she doesn’t notice that something is under his bed. Or, someone, rather. “Just had my headphones in so, yeah.”

“You know, we bought you a desk for a reason, right?” She tells and nods over at his laptop on his bed.

“Yeah, I just-, was cold. That’s all.”

“Alright,” She replies and frowns, Isak not moving a goddamn muscle on his face and _wow,_ has he ever been such a master actor? “I’m just coming to collect your uniform for the wash.”

She steps forward in his room and his act falls a little bit, a noise bubbling up his throat and he puts his hands up. Walking backwards without breaking any eye contact with her to grab it from the ground, hurriedly bending down and almost throwing it in her face.

“Was that it?”

“Yes, that was it.” She answers. Turning around and on her way to walk back out until she stops dead in her tracks and Isak’s breath hitches. “Next time you should hide your tissues before you open the door, though.”

Isak blinked and with a laugh she threw the door closed. His feet glued stuck on the ground while he heard snickering coming from under his bed. When he looked over he saw Even crawling, or maybe sliding would be better, from under there. Hair tangled gold and cheeks red from the heat down there.

“Stop laughing.” Isak started, trying to bury his face in his hands, “Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry.” Even replied, but didn’t seem sorry at all. He laughed even more and at one point Isak couldn’t help but join in, bubbles forming in his stomach and rising up to his throat.

He thought at one point he maybe looked silly, dumb with the way he was grinning teeth wide at Even. But then again, something in him didn’t seem to care with the way Even’s eyes wrinkled while looking at him.

It feels faintly like being careless again.

He _faintly_ feels like freedom with laughter spilling through the cracks of the walls. Even walks forward but the moment from before is lost, broken up and it seems right for them to end it here.

“I should probably go home.”

Isak gave him a nod, laughter dying down and his teeth finding his bottom lip. He’s been abusing the poor flesh for weeks now, he noted. He just ends up biting down harder on it when he notices Even dares to take a glance to it.

“You probably should.” Isak says, his arms feeling all wrong when he grabs Even’s jacket from next to the bed and tosses it back to him. And it’s odd, the way Isak’s limbs don’t even work like the way he wants to anymore. Fingers buzzing and elbows strange.

Even is sitting on the ground with one knee and his fingers working through the laces of his shoes when Isak finally asks him.

“So,” He clears his throat, “Friday, huh?”

Even nods up and smirks. Eyebrows batting and his eyes like sea glass. Moving from one shoe to the other.

 “Are you going to pick me up?” Isak asks and tries to fold an arm over his chest to close him off that little bit from the way that Even looks at him. He tries and then notices that his bracelet is in full view, making him drop his arm again. “Like, with your car.”

“Yeah sure.” Even shrugs and stands back up. Shoots Isak that blinding smile, maybe with more sympathy than usual, when he fixes his shirt. “We’ll probably show up late, probably.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, considering we don’t want you to get caught.” Even says. That moment Isak is exactly sure that the smile was more sympathy and he wanted to die. But there’s no time for a second thought, Even is turning around and opening Isak’s window again.

 Isak’s throat knots up again and his ears go something like white static.

 “Be careful.” He barely mumbles but Even shoots him a glance from over his leather shoulder, blossoming and prying in Isak’s chest. 

“I always am. See you Friday.”

Isak watches him climb through the window and sees him blindly grasping for the tree next to it. It’s gotten a lot more darker, sky close to a tint of ink black, so the way Even feels disoriented and almost slips from the windowsill is only natural. Isak feels stupid, idiotic but not really, when he takes a step forward. As if he’d catch Even.

Then he gets one more smile, white teeth a stark contrast against black, and a sight of the stars playing in Even’s eyes before he has to hand him over to the outside. And after all, when he sits back down in his bed, he’s back to his homework like it was the start of the evening.

 

**.Thursday – 7.30.**

When he wakes up he denies that he slept on the pillow that Even laid on. He denies, turns off his alarm and pushes his face deeper into it. It’s too early to lie to himself anyway.

 

**.Friday – 23.56.**

Isak feels more on edge than the previous Friday. His hands clammy all day and his tongue heavy, he doesn’t quite know how to act. His knees were all sorts of jumpy and when they told their prayers over the dining table, he saw the water in front of him turn to fizzing yellow.

So, that’s how he ended up on his bed again, his shoes and jacket sneaked up the stairs in a half kind of sprint and his phone stuck in his hand. His other is curled around the back of a burgundy snapback, something he’d had in his closet for a while and he thinks it might be from Jonas.

He found it somewhere between his sweaters, buried away deep but tonight seems alright to wear it.

There’s a sense of déjà vu ringing in his head, but this time the feeling feels even more thrilling. He can’t quite place it, doesn’t feel the need to place it and brings a hand through his hair. A glisten of silver, tight around him and God—what he’d give for it to get loose.

He focuses, looks at the lock—feels frustrated by it and weaves his teeth on it. It clings, tastes bitter like some metal dripping on his tongue—like a bronze coin. 

It only really hurts his teeth and his skin. Maybe his heart as well, but he lets it go.

Any minute now, he finds himself thinking all evening, any minute now.

His phone pings and he’s slipping his shoes on his feet faster than ever with giddy fingers. Seeing Even’s name light up on his screen against the background.

 

> **_From Even <3 – 23.57_ **
> 
> I’m leaving sooo see you soon <3
> 
>  

He takes one more breath before popping the snapback over his head, pulling it back and taking the last glance of himself in the mirror. He looks _okay_ , he figures. Apart from the weird wrinkle in his shirt and the blonde strands of hair popping out from under his snapback. But he can’t bring himself to care and finds himself already with one foot on the tree next to his window.

He’s outside and ready and yet, the whole ordeal still feels like some pipe dream.

The street lights are only lit with a dimmed orange, slightly shining through his mother’s rose bush into the garden. The garden where he barely lands on his feet on, tripping slightly on a loose tie of his Converse and almost going down with a yelp on the damp grass. He doesn’t and wipes the palm of his hands on his jeans before slipping out of the garden.

A word that tastes something like rival drips on his tongue. Smells like the rain that fell a couple hours ago and bears the brightest colours on the slippery pavement next to the street. The adrenaline of sneaking out only getting stronger compared to last time.

Even’s car isn’t on the end of the street yet and it’s a dangerous thing, but Isak couldn’t find himself to care less through the wildness of his beating heart.

He stands there on the pavement then, with his hands in his pockets and his feet kicking pebbles like tiny footballs.

He hopes faintly to kick the giddiness out of him, gets the sweatiness starting to pool on his hands away from his skin. His head is already somewhat spinning from the cold night air maybe, imagining the street lights flickering other bright colours when yes- that familiar sound of an engine running comes closer.

His spine tries to straighten up when the headlights catch him, but in the end, Isak can’t fight the buzzing striking thunder over the bone.

So, Even’s car is in front of him in a split second. The light inside goes on and Even clicks it off for reasons that make Isak’s heart ache, even though it is the middle of the night and getting caught seems somewhat surreal.

“I don’t usually take hitchhikers in, but you look cute so I’ll let it slide for once.” Is the first thing Even says when Isak opens the door.

“Shut up.” He replies and feels the corners of his mouth curling up _already_. And then that familiar burn deep in his gut returns like it always does around Even.

“No laughing this time?” Even asks just so Isak looks over to him and sees those white stars already endearing him from his head to his toes. How those canines in his mouth are already taken a capture on his bottom lip and even though it’s dark, Isak can feel his eyes travelling down to see his teeth biting his lip.

Isak breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, turns away from Even to lean against the car seat.

“I guess everything is different if you do it a second time.” Even adds on.

“Start the car, Even.” Isak shakes his head.

Even laughs and the engine rumbles under his feet. Ground shaking and almost living up to the earthquake in his own body. They turn out of the street and Isak takes a dare to glance over at Even’s profile. He’s never been really brave, but Isak sees him smile under the yellow lights and reminds himself why the engine doesn’t compare to the thunder cracking his gut. 

Isak breaks the silence after driving for 5 minutes, his heart caught in his throat going crisscross to rumble his bones and the red traffic light reminding him of the red faded on his own fingers.

“Did you smoke before picking me up?”

“Hm?” Even looks over from the road to Isak. Leaning his head on his left hand, his arm steady on the window.

“Did you smoke before picking me up?” Isak repeats and looks over from picking the skin next to his fingernails to Even.

“No.” Even frowns, shaking his head lightly. “Why? Does something smell like it?”

Isak has to suppress the smirk. Of course, he hadn’t.

“No, that’s why I’m asking.”

Even laughs candy sweet again and hits the outer of Isak’s thigh, brushing over the seams long enough so they both choke in their laugh. Long enough so they both turn a fire back on like flint stones clicking together on the contact of his leg and Even’s wandering fingertips to his knee.

It burns somewhat, his breath thick in his lungs and it feels like Even is stealing it again.

The traffic light turns green and then they are back to inhaling heavy smoke. That tastes even heavier than normal smoke and ashes that make his heart gold instead of his lungs silver.

Then the next time they come to a halt, there’s a loud bass coming through a building and flashing colours leaking through the windows. Even is clicking his tongue next to him and pulling the keys out so everything falls silent. Isak has fixated himself to look at the air refresher tied around the mirror.

“Here we are, Isak.” And the softness has returned. Gentle and like silk braiding through them.

Isak looks over to Even with some uncertainty in his eyes, he figures, and nods. He swallows before speaking. “Let’s go.” 

“Really?”

“No, wait.” Isak turns back from the door, takes a deep breath and turns to Even. With a hesitant hand and his fingers shaking from a soft rush—he pulls his sleeve up and stretches his wrist to Even. Inside up and a silver lock resting on his vein.

“Take it off.” He continues. Plain, simple.

Even blinks, dumbfounded. “Huh?” He says.

“Take it off,” Isak repeats, “Just take it off Even—throw it away or _something_.”

He doesn’t realise why it feels this big of a deal, something in his throat protesting and hurting his teeth as much as the silver did a bit ago. But he sets through, bears his wrist open in the cold and pushes it more towards Even as if it were some demand.

“I—“

“ _Even_.”

Even sighs, grabs Isak’s arm and slowly—delicate as if he’d break, he opens the lock. With some great precision and a gentle scrape over Isak’s wrist.

It slips off with ease, tickles and the free skin feels like new territory for Isak.

Even’s hand locks around it, it shimmers under his car light. “I’ll keep it safe.”

“Whatever you need.” Isak mumbles and turns away.

“We can uh—always turn back, you know?” Even voice chases after him when he opens the door and is midway crawling out, already met with the nights cold on his nose.

Isak, almost harsh enough to create a nick in the back of his neck, looks over to Even again. This time already out of the car and with the glossy black roof of the car separating them. He frowns at the way Even’s staring at him with a chunk suddenly forming in his throat, suddenly a lot more speechless with orange streetlights like a halo around Even’s head.

“It’s just a fucking party, Even.”

And with those famous last words, he slams the car door shut and turns his back to leather jacket halos.

He hears Even huff somewhat, the clicking of keys being pushed together following right before he hears a bit of a jog behind him. Heavy feet on pavement, a hush of breath and before he knows it Even is next to him again with a grin on his lips.

“Let’s go, then.” Even says to him. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave your side for a second.”

Isak huffs, rolls his eyes and pushes an elbow towards Even. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Me? A dick?”

“Fuck _off_.” Isak can’t help but laugh anyway, sparks like they touched for the first time going from his elbow to his toes and Even’s grin brightens whilst shoving a hand through his hair—pulled back slick by gel.

“I _know_ you don’t want me to fuck off, Isak.”

Before Isak has a chance to reply, to push or to curse, Even has a hand on the small of his back and pushes through the fabric of his clothing all the way through his skin to the white of his spine. He’s got pink on the apple of his cheeks before he can even do anything about it again.

Then, oh my God, _then_.

He finds a way around Isak’s neck, places his chin somewhere on his shoulder and whispers directly into his ear with his lips catching the skin and his fingers pushing harder on Isak’s back.

There’s a cloud of musk, leather, mint. Choking him and owning Isak enough to pull him off his feet to a state of what feels like euphoria. Though the absence of smoke, hard and stale, somehow doesn’t make it all smell familiar like Even always does.

“C’mon then.” There’s goose bumps from his neck to his toes, he believes. “What are you waiting for?”

Something like a miracle that gives him enough courage to turn his head towards his lips. Something like the world to stop screaming at him to _stop_ thinking and his chest to let him breathe again without spikes of wanton stabbing him like burning white rods.

“For you to get your stinking breath away from me.” He hitches out instead, his fingernails biting into the skin of his palms.

Even laughs, soft and it’s almost like a warm breeze against his ear—but pulls away. “Noted.” He nods.

_Please don’t._ Every fibre in his body goes.

“Okay now, we really gotta go.” Isak says and swallows the squeak in his voice away.

Even pulls back and gestures to the door. “Lead the way.”

Isak does, with a breeze on his back and his heart in his throat he moves closer to the loud music and neon dancing colours. He shouldn’t make a big deal of this, honestly. But of course, the fact that his parents think that he’s safe in bed curled away around his white duvet makes the situation a whole lot _exciting_.

The feeling of something big that’s going to shift in the universe keeps his knees in a buckle. He can’t just put his finger on it yet—he’s sure shifting lights and a leather jacket might have something to do with it tonight.

Opening the door was something, alright. Considering the millions of shoes in front of it and the amount of people that we’re having the party in the damn hallway instead of actually inside, made Isak make an entrance with quite the stumble.

“Elegant.” Even remarks behind him and Isak rolls his eyes whilst shrugging his jacket off.

Isak waits for Even to actually lead the way, considering he’s the only one he’ll know and getting lost in a Bakka party as a Nissen boy doesn’t seem like the best idea he’s ever had. Naked wrists or snapbacks aside.

He feels more like a puppy trailing behind him, honestly.

There’s seas of people, a humid heat and a smell that’s something like sweat and beer. He manages to almost fall straight into a couple attached to the lips because some fucking guy has the audacity to run into him. In which, in the end, he’s secretly grateful for because Even grabs his wrist instead.

“Where are we going?” He asks after stepping over a crushed, green beer can on the ground.

“The kitchen is where it’s all at!”

So, Even tugs him closer. So, Isak follows.

Isak is pulled away from his thoughts as Even pushes the top of a glass bottle against the counter, the crown flying over the marble stone and he watches it come to a halt.

“There’s a beer opener right there.” Isak deadpans, slipping out before he realises. But the remark is somewhat worth it—if the sparkle in Even’s blue eyes is something to go with. “Like, right there.”

“Oh my God Isak, are you jealous of my skills? Because I can open a beer bottle with a counter and don’t need a beer opener? Unlike you?”

“No, I’m just saying-“

“You totally are.” Even interrupts.

“No!”

“Right.” Even laughs. Isak’s stomach twists that familiar bit at the way Even’s grinning his teeth wide, wrinkling skin around his eyes and there’s a million colours on his skin that he wants to _feel_ for once.

“Right.” Even says again and pushes the cool bottle in his hands. Grazing Isak’s fingers like it’s his purpose to do and Isak almost lets the bottle slip through his fingers.

Even turns to grab another one and he grabs the beer opener instead this time, winking and smirking so much it’s like the ground cracks open for Isak underneath him. He takes the first gulp and it sets an alarm off in Isak to take a sip himself.

“Okay, so now that’s out of the way.” Even starts. “How about we find a place to chill— you know, I can claim a couch no problem.”

“Sounds good.” Isak nods.

Even nods back and they bare through the sea of people again, this time a bit more fearless for Isak. He’s quite starting to notice the way people make actual place for Even instead of closing his way in.

Not like Isak had expected less. He makes place for boys in leather jackets holding a beer too, he guesses that’s just the way it is.

Something big, something _wild_ , maybe something new is bound to happen under his feet. But not _now_.

He drinks the heavy feeling away instead. Allows for cool, bitter tastings under the stars of Even’s eyes and a bit of a heartache bound to be numbed for the first time. He’s deserved that much, at least for now.

 

.

 

Jealousy is a heavy thing.

A bit too heavy to carry, Isak believes.

It’s something that’s hooking through Isak’s veins, getting stuck in his bloodstream so it fills up his chest with stones that taste green under all the lights. It’s too heavy—oh, way too heavy. 

Isak’s got his knuckles white clenched around the glass of his beer bottle, his lip somewhere trapped between his teeth and his blood circulation angry and tearing him apart from inside out.

“I’ll look for Mikael and Adam, yeah?” Even had told him and stood up, seemingly ignorant to all the heads turning towards him as he walks past people. Yeah, but Isak _did_ notice them all.

He feels brittle, powerless because of his first taste of jealousy strangles his tongue so bitterly.

It’s unlike anything he’d experienced. He’s been angry before, or sad, or sick but this is just— everything combined just so his heart can churn and fucking burn a bit longer just so that his throat swells up. His stomach hurts, he sort of wants to scream and most of all wants it to stop.

He knew Even would get attention, in the back of his head somewhere. He, objectively of course, knows that Even is attractive and luring with the aesthetic and bad boy attitude luring around him like an aura. He should’ve known that he signed up for that.

It’s just that, everything becomes too real the second he’s left alone on the couch for a hot minute. Beer going lukewarm in his hand as he sees some girl batting her eyelashes at Even and twirling her hair around her fingers with her mouth smiling straight pearly white teeth.

And he wouldn’t have thought twice of it, but Even laughs along with her and steps closer just so Isak feels that stab of hot heat through his gut again.

This is, ultimately, the first time he’s ever felt like _that_.

The girl leans into Even and _fuck--_ Isak’s chest pulls together around his lungs. He wants to pretend it’s from the heat everywhere around him and the alcohol getting somewhere in his system on an almost empty stomach, but he knows he can’t keep putting the blame on that.

Not when there’s a flame in his gut spreading under his fingernails to just collide with Even and give a dirty glare whilst claiming Even’s hand. Maybe parallel the couple making out behind them. Anything seems fit at this moment because that girl is gazing at Even’s lips with no shame and Isak’s heart is being tugged on.

_Does he not know? Does he not know that I can literally see him?_

The glass bottle is about to cinematically shatter under his grip with the way he’s holding it, his leg bounces up and down and his spine feels oh so stiff with the way its tensed his muscles up. The girl laughs and lays a hand on Even’s arm and Isak wants to scream this whole place to lockdown.

Then, as if God or anyone heard his frustration themselves, Even pulls back and sets a step backwards. The girl’s smile falls a bit and she frowns, but for Isak—for Isak it feels like a balloon popping in his ribcage. Finally allowing him to _breathe_ again and slump backwards on the couch.

Jesus Christ, he’s really fallen that deep already, isn’t he?

He’s tugging at the label of his beer bottle when Even drops down on the couch next to him again. Heavy and with a sigh, his gaze immediately back on Isak like he wasn’t just hitting on someone in front of Isak a second ago.

“They’ll come over in a bit.” Even says.

Isak is about to frown until he realises that he’s talking about Mikael and Adam. Then he frowns either way because Even certainly wasn’t talking to them a minute ago.

Even raises his brows and looks over. “What?” He asks.

“It’s just-, nothing.” Isak replies while shrugging and leaning back on the couch. His finger tracing circles on the mouth of the bottle, which is absentmindedly balancing on his jean clad thigh. Even almost squints at him with a sideway slanted grin. The lights playing on the side of his face.

“Are you drunk?” Even asks. “How much did you drink already?”

Isak can feel the blush forming, there’s something embarrassing he could pull out of the situation just with the way Even was asking the question. A bit with a hint of bubble laughter, leaning closer to Isak just to inspect the side of his face.

“No, oh my _God_ , I’m not drunk.” Isak splutters, pushing Even back. “I drank like 2 beers, Even.”

“You sure? You’ve got a bit of a blush going on, you know.”

The statement just helps to ignite it even more, he’s looking down at his lap and considers the option to just say that he’s drunk over the real reasons why he’d be blushing. Tug in his stomach aside. Just, go back to that girl.

But Even seems to have forgotten her already. Isak doesn’t know whether that spurs him on forward, or makes the fall end abruptly with a crash on the ground. The blush suffuses further onto his neck under Even’s gaze.

“Hey.” Even says after a moment of silence, soft and almost wrong against the bass that drums further in their ears. “You, _uh_ —you wanna get--“

“ _Even_ , my man!”

It’s quite comical how they both look up like they got caught doing something they shouldn’t have done. Whipping their head up, Isak’s heart almost stopping because somehow his mind clicked to ‘what if it was someone from Nissen?’ and made his blood freeze up.

“Adam? Hey dude!” Even says and stands up to squeeze himself in a hug with Adam.

So, the awkwardness starts again. Isak looking down at the ground or the ingredients of his beer bottle, he doesn’t really know himself. Just that suddenly the situation is a whole lot more, frightening when you’ve sneaked around with a guy that’s friends with people that once wanted to beat him bruised blue and purple.

The memory seems a bit too foggy for Isak’s liking, too far away and somehow surreal because of the persona shift Even has had around him so far.

“You here with Mikael?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Adam shrugs back. “I guess- I guess you could say it like that.”

“And the other boys?”

Adam frowns, chuckles a bit and pushes past Even. “Whoa, dude, can’t I get a drink before you start an interrogation?”

“Yeah, but Eva said that the others were here too and it’s been ages since I’ve seen the others and not just your face, man!”

That mention of the name made Isak look up again. Eva, the girl from Nissen that had something with someone from Bakka. Not only that—got caught with someone from Bakka and ended up with getting judged – even by the teachers of the school.

Rumours _spread_ , that’s just how it is.

“Yeah, yeah dude.” Adam bumped a shoulder against Even and the fact that they both wore leather as if they belonged in some cult made Isak shift in his seat. Suddenly too hot and another pang of nervosity going through his stomach.

“This is Isak, by the way.”

Even mentioned it so, casually. Just a ‘ _oh that’s him’_ as if he didn’t know that Isak had second thoughts about even joining him tonight just because of the conflict that happened weeks ago. This whole ordeal is just bound to end awkward and leave bitter stains on their tongues.

And Isak, well, Isak just wanted none to do with it. But he reacted too late to turn back now. That he did.

It took Adam a minute to figure it out, mostly because it all happened weeks ago and it probably wasn’t only a blurry memory for Isak only. But when he did, he took a step back like Isak was some sort of electricity haywire. A bit stunned and shocked when he turned back to Even.

“Isn’t this, Nissen boy? Like, Nissen _church_ boy?”

Well if the tone of tease had something to do with it, he didn’t seem to make a big deal of it all and just ended up more amused with it all than anything. It was a bit sly, Isak didn’t trust it that much and tucked his hands between his knees whilst his fingernails picked on the wet label.

Him and luck has never really been a good match on his side.

He kisses his teeth and runs his tongue over them, about to speak up in tones that would create more damage than stitches—with annoyance, maybe aggravation to push him down and take revenge on those footprints that always push him down with prejudices. Even when, his skin is naked from silver and crosses and is slightly kissed by alcohol instead.

Even raises a brow, clenching his jaw and things seem to start going south quite faster than Isak can keep up with. “Be cool, just call him Isak.”

“What’s up with the two of you?” Adam asks. Isak can’t blame him for being curious no, but Even seems downright ready to snap at him. His hand on Adam’s arm a bit too tight and Adam scoffs at the sudden power injustice.

“It’s a normal question, Even.”

“Drop _it_.”

“Is he your boyfriend or something? You’re acting as if I’d announce it to anyone I see if he was.” Adam sputters and pulls his arm back. “Are you like, _okay_ , bro?”

Even steps back as if he was just hit in the face, full blown and reckless without apologies to spare. “I am. It’s just that Isak owes you nothing, so leave him alone. Alright?”

Oh, so it’s about him now. Isak stands up, is finally about to _say_ something to the air that stringed up tight between the three of them, when he notices a familiar head with blonde hair behind Even.

He hears a laugh he’d recognise out of a million and it’s like his mind switches on full blown right in that second, standing between Adam and Even when his hands start to sweat.

_Magnus_.

“Even, we gotta go.” Isak says and tugs at the front of Even’s jacket, deliberately making himself smaller just so Even’s frame can hide him. He hadn’t quite expected to have an escape from one of his best friends whilst all his senses start to acknowledge Even again—drawing him in with strings one by one.

“What—what’s going on, Isak?”

“No! Don’t turn around.” Isak hushes as Even starts to turn his head and he tugs him closer to his own chest just so Even will listen to him for _once_. “We gotta fucking go, like _now_.”

“Yeah-- _yeah_ sure, okay!” Even nods. “You want me to go first?”

“I don’t care just, make sure that the people at _that_ wall can’t see me.”

Then, Isak’s head goes into an emergency haze. His heart going too fast for his blood and he blames the unsteadiness of his knees on the beer for once. Because every fibre in his body starts burning up, flames hot and only striking through EvenEven _Even._

Who’s got an arm over Isak, breaks every element of control Isak possesses so much he barely hears him say goodbye to Adam.

The colours turn brighter than he imagined them to be ever and whilst smelling mint and leather he lets himself be pulled outside through couples or seas of cans on the ground.

He’s hazed, almost absolutely _crazed_ , with how worked up he gets if Even gets too close.

Breaking outside is like dipping headfirst in an ice bath, the warmth from inside completely a goner with the winter freeze starting up. Even clicks on his car keys and the white car lights blink a contrast against the dark. There’s a tug and pull, a game of tug of war almost, until Isak is finally seated in the car seat with Even starting the engine for warmth.

“Fuck, Isak—what was that?” Even asks him after everything rattles underneath their feet.

There’s a sudden twist in Isak’s mood that he can’t help anymore. The anger from inside and build up of it all coming to a snowballing point and crashing at faster rates than his breath could manage.

He wants to cry somewhat, be honest for once, but he balls his hands to fists instead. The realness of his fingernails biting a claim against his skin maybe keeping him grounded for once.

“I saw Mags and I didn’t want him to suddenly start asking questions why I was at a fucking Bakka party if everyone just thinks I’m a religious _snob_.” He spits out and even in the dark he can see the drawback Even’s posture has.

“Who told you that?” And Even’s tone is harsh, almost as rough as the November air against their noses. “Who called you that?” He repeats.

“You can’t _beat_ everyone up when you don’t like what they say.” Isak splutters out. “That’s not how the real world _works_ , Even.”

“I’m not beating someone up, what the fuck, I’m asking who called you that so you feel like you have to flee out of a building because you’re afraid of being recognised just because you live with different norms.” Even replies. “That’s not, that’s not _okay_ —Isak.”

“Just, fuck, just drive me home. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I can’t drive you home right now.” Even deadpans and oh my God Isak has white anger living in every vessel of his body.

“You’re in the fucking driver seat and you’re telling me you can’t drive me home?”

“You’re almost hysterical Isak, holy shit—I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

“So, you’re gonna make decisions for me now?” Isak has a dry laugh in his throat that he chokes on along with his own voice.

“No!” Even replies. “I want you to be able to think rationally for _yourself,_ for just once.”

_Stop tugging at me like this,_ he wants to beg on his bare knees, _stop hurting me like this._ He hasn’t figured out who he’s directly begging to, just yet. Even is looking at him and the concern reflects in the fucking dark and it all hurts to even breathe without breaking something that wasn’t supposed to be broken.

He boils down, eventually. Tries to calm his chest down with the way it threatens to heave. Under Even’s watch, he unclenches his fists again. Hands shaking, he’s stretching his fingers against his thighs and he sighs a shaken breath out.

“Okay, drive me somewhere else, then.”

Nothing more but breath clouds are exchanged then, only Even twisting his keys and driving somewhere where Isak, presumably, for once can be secluded away from the world without any guilt in his head.

 

**.Saturday – 02:29.**

Even drives, and Even drives.

Isak starts to suspect he hopes to swerve the shaken air between them out by taken all those turns. They’re silent. Almost deafeningly like and Isak doesn’t dare to look over to Even’s profile or make any remarks that could fume them both on even further.

When Even does stop however, they’re at some closed down park that has signs where people have spray-painted over. When they stop, Even climbs out of the car in almost a hurry and Isak expects himself to have to follow him. But Even stops dead in his track in front of the car, leaning to sit on the hood with his arms crossed and Isak shuffles next to him.

“You, uh, you come here often?” When he realises what he said, he almost flushes red so fast the rush of blood makes him lightheaded.

Even snorts. Isak’s heart is caught in his throat. He couldn’t blame himself for trying and to bravely dip a toe in the water.

“Sorry.” He says anyway.

“Don’t be.” Even says while he starts picking at the zipper of his jacket. “You shouldn’t be.” He mumbles after.

Isak moves to sit on the hood of the car, just high enough so his feet are from the ground and he buries his nose into his jacket as much as he could. The beer was somewhat wearing off, and his body hurt whilst his ears struggled a bit to be as clear again.

“You cold?” Even asks when he looks over. “You can sit in the car, if you want to.”

“’M fine.” Isak replies and looks down at his dangling feet. His converse covered in dirt and scrabbled and maybe he should’ve known better that to sit against Even’s car with them, but at this moment he couldn’t bring himself to care for once.

Even when he was, undoubtedly, cold.

“But I do come here often, actually. More often now ever since I met you.” Even admits and kicks a pebble away. They both watch it stumble further away. “It’s a—nice place to think. Not too far away from your house, did you know?”

Isak tries to ignore that Even goes to special places to think now more than he has before ever since he met him. It’s a flame of false hope and he wishes it wasn’t as green tinted than it already was.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” Isak shook his head, crossing his ankles together just so he has something to _do_ and make him warmer. “We didn’t really drive a road that I recognised too, it was a lot longer than home.”

“Driving calms me down, takes my mind off of things.” Even shrugs.

“Cool.” He pretends like it doesn’t hurt when Even implies that he was actually angry with him.

“ _Yeah_.”

“Sleeping calms me down.” He didn’t know why he was saying this, there was just something that needed to keep the ribbon going because they were falling short.

“That’s chill, I guess sleeping calms me down too. Or like, smoking or something.” Even looks up at him. His expression something that Isak hasn’t experienced before, but it feels soothing or some sort—it sooths him under the stars and makes a shiver go over his spine that for once isn’t because of the biting cold.

“You haven’t smoked while I’m here though.” Isak mumbles and that’s pretty much how they keep their talk going, with some mumble or a whisper just loud enough to get the words out.

Even nods and rubs his hands together to warm them up. “Because you’re here, so.”

“You don’t want to smoke because I’m here?” Isak replies and raises a brow. When Even nods, he huffs. “That’s ridiculous.”

Even raises his brows and then frowns to think of some words, Isak figures. He swallows but everything he does seems to spike in his throat, forces its way down with brutal movements that he can’t get his body to numb.

“No, it isn’t.” Even shakes his head. “I’m giving you the chance to form your opinion on it.”

Isak frowns. “You’re giving me a chance to form my opinion on it by already making a decision for me?”

There’s a silence that creates a small throb in Isak’s bones, starting to shift underneath the stars and against the hood of Even’s car. Reality altering in his mind when he looks over at Even, deep in thoughts and eyebrows strung close together just so that there’s a wrinkle forming.

Something in him, small and not too loud, tells him this might just not be about the cigarettes only.

It’s a terrifying thought, to say the least.

“No, by-.” Even stops, thinks again. “By creating room so you can realise what _you_ want.”

“But by creating ‘room’ you’ve already ended up deciding what you think that I want.” Isak argues back. “That’s what happens when you assume what people want.”

It’s becoming quite obvious that Even’s got his nails dug somewhere in his jacket. His neck straining, his head wired to himself, his nose a red that Isak barely manages to catch up on in the dark. He stands up straight, digs his toe into the dirt ground before turning back to Isak.

“What should I have done then?” He asks and his jaw strains. Is holding back a secret to tear them apart.

“You should’ve talked about it to me from the _start_.”

Even’s eyes glaze over. Isak can’t help but notice his hands, even when trying to keep themselves grounded, are shaking and his spine seems saturated in nerves. It’s radiating from his toes to his hair, leaves Isak only to swallow it.

Even pushes more. “I did, though.” He says.

“Did you?”

“I asked you, on that bench. That Friday at the skate park.”

It’s a while ago but Isak remembers, it’s only difficult to forget your first stutter of heart. Even when they only started to become heavier with the days continuing.

“Yeah and what did I say?” He replies.

“That you didn’t mind.”

“Then why would it change?”

“Because, opinions change the longer you are with the person.” Even says. “They change when you get to know personas, the way how they talk or are around you. You realise what you might be _worth_ to them.”

Isak wants to sigh, forget about trust falling and changing personas for once because right now his head can only reform sentences in the hope that Even would stop believing anything different than just him. It’s a strange feeling that Even doesn’t understand him whole—just yet.

Isak clicks his shoes together, his spine straighter, before speaking again. “That’s assuming again, though.”

Even is the first one to sigh. It’s heavy on both their shoulders, tormenting and frustrating.

“Then what do you want me to _do_ , Isak. Ask you whenever I want to smoke?”

_“No!”_ He’s frustrated, pouring through his seams. “You’re not getting it! You told me to think rationally for myself, but then you think for me before I get the chance to. You told me to make decisions on myself, but then you do it for me without realising that you’re doing it. I just want you to give me room, for once, so I can think before you’ve got your mind set on what I want.”

It’s quiet. Apart from the deafening noise of his blood drumming in his ears.

“Oh.” Even says and it’s even more silent than the silence around them, Isak believes. “I—that was never my intentions to do. I hadn’t thought of it that way, in your point of view, I’m sorry.”

“I know it wasn’t.”

“I just didn’t know that there, would be so much value in a decision like whether I could smoke around you or not. That you think so much of that.” Even is frowning, biting his lip and it’s because everything clicks in his head that Isak feels his blood pooling warm again.

He takes a sigh himself, stealing even when his head told him not to—and braces himself for the impact of the end of a jump.

“I’m not talking about the damn cigarettes anymore, Even.”

The world, even when it seems under their feet, shifts and Even moves in front of him. A slow step that causes earthquakes in every tremble of his hands. It’s all turned into a dangerous, tricky game and now he can’t get out—he can’t breathe anymore as his throat stitches itself together.

When Even looks at him however, stare boring and icicle steel through his eyes, everything cracks and circulates round in his body.

“What do you want, Isak?” Even spoke, dangling in front of him like a golden string.

There’s a word, locked away up tight and braided over and around his ribs. Slippery on his tongue—behind his teeth, threatening to _spill_ and rip every book in his nightstand to paper shreds.

“I don’t-, I don’t know.” He replies instead. Doesn’t believe in irony and tugs his sleeves over his hands. Old habits die hard. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit. What do you want from, _me_.”

“I want-,” Isak gasped and pulled—his chest was going to spill, his heart was going to find a way to his throat and nothing in his willpower wanted to stop it. “I want everything.”

Because saying that came only closest to what he wanted. He wanted everything. Every freckle like it was a star he reads about, black like it was a dramatic indigo he needed to dip his fingers in. Ethereal magic that after all, never lies.

“Then _take_ everything.” Even tells him like he’s begging him to.

So Isak, only weak for buckling knees and trembling voices, took a step forward from the hood of the car. A sensation flooding his mouth.

And under the seas of stars this exact night, he broke all the askew rules his mind set on him. With his hands on Even’s jaw and his eyes fluttering closed, he had a _revolution_ in his hand palms and a spark in the first touch of their lips.

Everything felt like gunshots, spirals crashing down on the ground and white flags held up during battlefields. The warmth of Even’s lips and the sharp inhale against his cheek just alarming enough fires that the sky above them cracked open.

His fingers, only shaking and pressing, felt like they held a purpose in his hands. It tasted like mint, lingering alcohol on skin and his fucking freedom on someone’s lips. And Even, oh God _Even—_ Even held him with his hands on his waist like they’d fall apart if he didn’t press his fingers hard enough.

It’s right.

The way how their mouths are fitting together or the tip of Even’s tongue clouding over his bottom lip. His stomach unleashing the fluttering of wings as he’s being pressed backwards, hitting the hood of Even’s car with his backside.

And _fuck_ —does it feel like a forest fire igniting his spine when he sits on it with Even between his legs.

He’s falling with his heart on display and Even’s mouth on his. Even’s hair between his fingers like gold spilling over—Even’s tongue licking into his like they’re spilling ink with a secret on white paper. There’s hands everywhere, going fast into the marrow of his bones, his skin, his head.

They’ve just landed on the small of his back, Even just pushed a little too much to make Isak lay down—before the pulled back from each other through the craze.

Breathing after that, with the taste of each other still on their tongue, feels like reaching a water’s surface. It doesn’t end, there’s too much to explore, but between the pecks and the first opening of their eyes again a laugh forms in Isak that’s grounded so deep. Breathing a giggle almost, under Even’s scent, is a weight dropping with dead stone from his shoulders.

It’s a bit obscure, messy like paint would stain on his fingers, when they both start laughing with their noses pressed against each other like that. And everything, falls in the right shape. He knew they’d end up like this somehow—somewhere deep in his chest.

“I think that was enough for now.” He speaks. His voice is brittle, fragile and enchanted. His fingers tracing Even’s cheekbone with his knuckle. Looking at him is endearing with the galaxies behind him.

“Yeah.” Even leans into it and Isak wants to keep the sparkle of his eyes like fireflies in a glass jar. “I think that was the limit.”

His other hand is somewhere on Even’s arm, gripping leather like a flat lifeline. The winter swept over his head—his heart is just beating so goddamn fast under the moon. He leans forward again, tilting his chin upwards. A peck and a promise.

Even moves, wraps his arms around Isak and then hugs him. “I wanted to do that ever since I met you.” It’s only a mere whisper in his ear to make his toes curl.

“When you pressed me against the wall?” Isak laughs, his chest clenching together at the somewhat ordinary line.

“Shut up.” Even grins and Isak can _feel_ it against his neck. “On the bench, alright.”

“Alright.”

It should all by all be uncomfortable, how they’re laying half on the car half on each other. But it’s not the twist of his back that pushes Isak, or the hysterical way his heart is breaking through—it’s the winter’s cold hitting his nose.

The shiver he has and the owning goose bumps showing up give him away, Even holds him a tad bit tighter even though he’s not that warm himself. Isak embraces it anyway though, pushes his nose closer towards him and away from the wind.

They’re there. Just together and all outsiders or even the world is forgotten. It’s just two boys in a drunken kissed state under the sky on a car. Two boys with a start of a tale up and under their nails, driving it through each other’s clothing.

“I think I have to drive you home, now.”

It’s almost heart wrenching to hear that the break from reality is over. After forming some fantasy under the galaxies on the hood of Even’s car that his dreams would explode radiance in. The peculiar blush on his cheeks as just some check.

“Why?” It’s a whine, he knows it’s one, but his lungs are too tightly roped together and his head is too clouded to think twice. “I don’t want to go home.”

“You’re cold.” Even presses a kiss into his neck. Soft, pliant, heartbreaking like goodbyes.

Isak’s chest has shattered to the ground like dust already. He sighs before “Can’t I go to yours instead?” slips out of him.

Even chuckles against his skin, pulling back and tugging softly at one of his hair strands that’s spilling from his snapback. Then twists his fingers around it. Isak is caught under the moonlight lingering the air.

“It’ll be easier if you can wake up in your own bed, no?” He smiles and Isak wants to pretend like he isn’t right.

But he nods anyway, splays his fingers on Even’s back and he’d be annoyed—but everything seems too much like destiny to be. Heart of gold. 

“Will you come back home with me?”

Even nods, stolen stars stuck in his gaze. “Of course.”

He’s just ready to come alive with a shift of the wind. He’s everything he wanted—feels free, rich with bright ribbons around his wrists instead of a silver order that’s too heavy for him to bare. Right there, under Even’s gaze and the stars with the rest of the world dead and forgotten, he feels himself breathe.

“I wish I had a blanket in my boot of the car or something.” Even whispers. “Because I don’t—I don’t want to leave this feeling, ever.”

Isak’s arms go tighter around Even, his ribs cracking open from the rate of his heart. It’s perfect, it’s right and everything. The everything that he wanted.

“Me neither.” Isak promises him back, right before Even kisses him again. Right before the roller coaster drops down again after an overlook of the city night.

 

**.Saturday – 4:58.**

Driving into his home street is like a dream shattering. Like a drug running slow again and the dryness of his mouth spreading down his body. Even held his hand like a red string the whole ride home, or drew shapes on his skin to let them bore through his tired soul. Like tattoos, positive tarot cards and misbelieves of mischief.

Coming to a halt on the end of the street with a squeeze of Even’s fingers is like stepping on the pieces. As overdramatic it sounds, it’s a quite earthshattering thought to be alone again. So, he asks if he doesn’t have to be.

“Will you—will you come up to my room with me?” He asks whilst his fingers twitch against Even and his heart bares his throat again.

It’s happening _fast_ , there’s no doubt. But the speed of the ride somehow thrills Isak even more. They own the night like it belonged to them all along.

“ _Isak_.” Even sighs and it tugs. “That’s not— “

“Please.” He doesn’t want to let go just yet. “Until I fall asleep, I’m so tired—it won’t be long.”

It’s not perfect, that he knows it is. It’s a bit too fucked up, a boy that is his dirty secret that he wants in his bed to fall asleep next to. As if he didn’t know he was sitting next to a matchstick and he’s about to get his fingers burned if he goes too fast.

Even looks over and stares at their intertwined hands, before stuttering out a nod. “If you want me to.”

Isak smiles, looks down at his lap before they let go of each other to get out of the car. His blood racing when he watches the small jog Even does around the car to get back to Isak, walking next to him with a brush of skin against skin.

Fingers occasionally linking together. Veins occasionally losing their purpose and starting over again.

They kiss again in Isak’s garden just because they can. Only let the frost dusted roses see them whilst Isak throws his arms over Even’s shoulders. They sigh against each other’s mouth as the morning dewed grass licks their feet, his mouth pliant and his chest like an orchestra of strings.

When Even pulls back, he kisses Isak’s cheeks, his nose, his mouth until they laugh. Sweet and sticky like honey is.

Climbing to his room with two people who want nothing but to be close to each other is like a challenge, a mission with his fingers baring the bark of the tree as Even almost pulls him down by the hem of his jeans. It’s a gniffle, a giggle, a hushed ‘sorry’ that’s amusing before they’re back at where the night started for Isak.

After seeing his bed, seas of fluffy white and feathery soft, the tiredness kicks in like a hammer to a nail. Even sends him to the bathroom with a peck on his cheek—a hand on his lower back.

When he sees himself in the reflection of the mirror though, whilst his toothbrush is in his mouth and his chest is bare, he bares another shock he hasn’t felt yet. There’s a redness to his lips that he hasn’t owned yet, or a blush dusting from his cheeks to his chest just so that he’s reminded that Even is a kick to his senses.

He’s in a pride strut back to his bedroom, a bit too proud because he didn’t knock anything over in the bathroom. Even is on his bed already, jacket thrown over his desk chair and shoes next to the bed, looking at something on his phone before he notices Isak again.

It’s a bit playful next up, because routine takes a place and when there’s someone else you don’t realise that there’s a guy in your bed and you’re not wearing anything but your underwear. And all the light hearts, laughs shared under Isak’s bedside lamp, make him collapse next to Even on his bed with the covers thrown over him immediately.

“You look great, don’t you worry.” Even says. Isak pulls him under the covers next to him, body heat sharing and all—until his chest flutters open as Even throws an arm over him and pulls him closer.

“I don’t wanna go to _sleep_.” He huffs. “I just want to chill.”

Even traces his back, his shoulder blades and dips in the notches of his spine, before kissing Isak’s forehead. His senses are all tired, his heart has been working too much for so long now and he can’t keep up anymore. The right option is laying his head on Even’s shoulder and staring at the bare skin of his neck—freckle one, freckle two, constellation in his bed.

“Then we’ll just chill.”

Isak falls asleep 5 minutes after that.

 

**.Saturday – 10:56.**

Waking up in the morning, Even’s gone and it all feels like a dream when he there’s only his duvet next to him. He looks up and sees the window half opened, and pushes back against his free pillow with a lazy grin—only mint and leather on his mind.

He thinks that’s all Even left him, until standing up and seeing one of his yellow post-its stuck against his laptop.

 

_You’re cute when you sleep, text me when you wake up?_

_< 3 Even._

 

Everything underground opens again and a first kiss on the hood of a car under the stars of the night reminds him. This morning, whilst grinning, he grabs his phone from his charger and lets it rule him this time. Without thinking of any statues or norms just yet.

He managed to pry the lock of his bracelet open anyway. 

 

**_B_** _ut_ _I'm weak, and what's wrong with that?  
__Boy, oh boy I love it when I_ **fall** _for that._


End file.
